Arthur Goes Fourth VI: Rich Van, Poor Van
by Dead Composer
Summary: Van's ship has finally come in! Will Muffy sink it?
1. Beat Forgets

This fic is rated PG for violence. 

Disclaimer: They're not my characters. Why are they following me everywhere?

----

_Thursday, January 21._

Mr. Simon pressed a white button by the side of the gate. Moments later a nearby speaker started to crackle, and a man's voice emitted from it: "State your business."

"We're the Simons," Roger responded. "We have an appointment with Mr. Putnam."

After a few seconds of silence, the voice from the speaker said, "Proceed."

A buzzing sound indicated that the gate had been unlocked. Mr. Simon pushed it open, and he started along the pathway with his wife and daughter.

Beat gazed in wonder at the yellow-painted cobblestone pathway that led through the vast yard in front of the Putnam mansion. "This is like the Wizard of..."

Before she could complete her sentence, a sudden, intense sensation of cold and soreness spread through her face. She noticed a strong taste of blood on her tongue, as if a tooth had just fallen out and left a gaping hole. In an instant, she was no longer strolling along the stone path, but lying prostrate on what felt like a corduroy sofa.

"Huh? What...where..." she stammered, only to find that most of her face, and especially her nose, became inflamed with pain every time she moved her lips to speak.

"Take it easy, Beat," came a girl's voice that sounded slightly familiar. "You've been in a fight. You'll be okay."

Beat groaned miserably. Her swollen face felt as if someone had plowed it thoroughly with a tractor. She could only see out of her left eye; a cold, moist object that she took to be an ice pack was covering her right eye. She quickly realized that another, larger ice pack had been placed over her aardvark nose, which seemed to have ballooned to the size of an elephant's.

"Wh-who did this?" she asked weakly.

"I didn't see who it was," replied the girl's voice. "Didn't you?"

Beat's good eye was staring up at a light blue ceiling; she didn't feel like moving it to identify the girl who was talking to her. "Who are you?" she inquired.

"It's me, Mavis," said the girl in a friendly voice.

"Mavis...Cutler?" Beat recalled fondly the occasion when she had met Mavis at a party, and learned that it was possible to attend Uppity Downs without being rich.

"Do you know any other Mavises?" asked Mavis, who was now looking down over Beat's left eye so that her hamster-like face, curly red hair, and spectacles were visible.

"What am I doing here?" asked Beat, speaking slowly in an attempt to avoid antagonizing the swollen flesh of her nose.

"You came here," Mavis replied. "You just walked in here a few minutes ago with your face all beaten up."

"But...why did I come here?" Beat persisted in her questioning. "Why didn't I go to my flat?"

"I guess because it was closer," Mavis conjectured. "Plus you know my mom's a doctor."

"I've only met you once," Beat pointed out. "At the party."

"That's not true," said Mavis with a confused tone. "You've been going to Uppity Downs with me for over a week now. Don't you remember?"

"Now you're talking nonsense," Beat retorted. "I was just on my way to Mr. Putnam's place with my mum and dad to see if we could talk him into letting me attend."

"That was three weeks ago," Mavis informed her.

"What?" Beat slowly bent herself into a sitting position, carefully holding the ice packs to her face. She observed that the pink parka and blouse she had worn for school had been replaced by an oversized brown shirt and pants. Her feet were clad in a pair of strange, worn tennis shoes. "What's today's date?"

"It's February 13th," Mavis continued. "Saturday."

"That's impossible," Beat attempted to say, but it came out as "that'th ibpothible". Her swollen nose was blocking off her sinuses, and her tongue seemed to be reporting the absence of one or two teeth.

"Well, then, what day do you think it is?" asked Mavis mockingly.

"It's Thursday, January 21st," Beat answered.

Mavis placed her hands on Beat's shoulders and tried to force her to recline. "I think you'd better lie down," she recommended. Then she turned her head and called toward her parents' bedroom. "Mom!"

Moments later Dr. Cutler emerged from the bedroom, wearing a casual red dress. "What is it?"

"Beat has amnesia," said Mavis, her voice full of concern. "She's lost her memory of the past three weeks!"

(To be continued! Please review and submit your ideas for how the story should proceed!)


	2. Francine Threatens

"You and Mavis became best friends after you started attending Uppity Downs," Penny Simon recounted to her daughter. "You spent hours here every day after school. I assumed you two were studying together, since you got perfect marks on your assignments."  
  
Beat, still lying on the couch in the Cutlers' modest living room, moaned and shook her head slowly. "Mum, I think I need another Advil," she requested. "My face really hurts."  
  
As Mrs. Simon ran her fingers over Beat's sweaty forehead, the front door to the house burst open and Francine charged in, her expression filled with anger and determination. Without bothering to close the door after her, she approached the place where Mrs. Simon was soothing her daughter, and seemed to cool off a little. "Will she be all right?"  
  
"Yes," replied the British aardvark woman. "Her face is swollen and she's missing two teeth, but she'll be as good as new after a little dental work."  
  
Francine (or, more properly, Sue Ellen in Francine's body) gazed down at Beat's face and felt pangs of guilt when she beheld the black bruises and red swollen areas that were left partially visible by the ice packs. "I'm sorry, Beat," she said as she slowly removed her red jacket. "I wouldn't have done this if I'd known it was you."  
  
Mrs. Simon shot her an astonished look. Beat turned her left eye in Francine's direction. "It was you, Frankie?" she marveled.  
  
"Don't call me Frankie," Francine snapped at her. "You know I'm really Sue Ellen. And you've got to switch us back before my dad leaves for good."  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about," Beat answered weakly.  
  
"She can't remember anything from the past three weeks," Mrs. Simon told Francine.  
  
"I don't have time for any more tricks, Beat!" Francine exclaimed furiously. "You've got to go to my dad and tell him what you did, so he'll bring Francine back, so I can get my body back! He won't listen to me!"  
  
Attracted by the shouting, Dr. Cutler entered the room from the kitchen, clutching a bottle of Advil and a glass of water. "What's going on?" she asked.  
  
"She's lying!" said Francine, pointing at Beat and walking toward the doctor. "There's nothing wrong with her memory. She just doesn't want to own up to what she did!"  
  
"You must be a friend of Beat's," said Dr. Cutler calmly as she seated herself. Mrs. Simon took the medicine and water from her hands, and went to administer them to Beat.  
  
"Not anymore." Francine's voice was starting to break, and her eyes were tearing up. "Not since she switched our bodies."  
  
"Hmm...okay," muttered the doctor with a hint of incredulity. "Now why don't you sit down, take a deep breath, and tell me all about it."  
  
Francine complied, taking a seat in a chair opposite Dr. Cutler. "My name's Sue Ellen," she began. "I was the cat girl with the curly hair at Mavis' party last month. But I don't look like that anymore, because I'm in Francine's body, and she's in mine."  
  
"Interesting." Dr. Cutler's detached tone gave Francine the impression that she was being psychoanalyzed. Cold winter air poured in through the front door, which no one had taken the trouble to close.  
  
"Francine and I went to the old barn by the creek because we thought Muffy would meet us there," Francine went on.  
  
"Muffy Crosswire?" asked Dr. Cutler. "The missing girl?"  
  
"Yeah," Francine answered. "Only when we got there, it wasn't Muffy. It was a girl with a mask, and she knocked us out with some kind of gas. When we woke up, we were in each other's bodies."  
  
"Right," said Dr. Cutler flatly.  
  
From the corner of her eye, Francine noticed that Mrs. Simon was staring at her with a glazed expression. "We stayed that way all week," she continued, undeterred. "Then today, someone called me and told me to go back to the barn with Francine so we could be switched back. But when I got to my house, Francine and my mom were already gone. They...they had to make an emergency move. My dad wouldn't believe me when I told him I was really Sue Ellen." Tears began to roll down Francine's cheeks as she related the painful story. "I thought I would lose my parents forever. I was really mad at the person who did this to me. I wanted to get revenge. I went to the barn, and the girl with the mask was there. I don't know if it was the same girl or a different girl. She was about to knock me out with her gas again, but I kicked it out of her hand, and then we had a fight, and I won. I didn't know it was Beat until I took off her mask. There was blood all over her face. I wanted to help her, so I reached into my pocket to get a handkerchief...and then she used her knockout gas on me. As soon as I woke up I went to Beat's place, and Mr. Simon told me to come here."  
  
By this time, Dr. Cutler was fingering her chin and staring blankly into space. Francine turned and saw that Beat was sitting up, the two ice packs sitting on her lap, her grotesquely swollen nose and bruised right eye exposed. Mrs. Simon was seated next to her, glaring at Francine indignantly.  
  
"You...don't believe me, do you?" Francine ran her fingers over her cheeks to wipe off the tears.  
  
"Back when I was editor of a fantasy journal," Mrs. Simon replied, "I must have rejected about three dozen body-swapping stories that were better than yours."  
  
"Frankie wouldn't hurt me without good reason, Mum," said Beat as she replaced one of the ice packs over her black eye. "Maybe I did something bad to her, but I can't remember it."  
  
"How'd you get so good at martial arts, Beat?" Francine asked her. "You were blocking me left and right. It was all I could do to get a punch in."  
  
Beat shook her head disbelievingly. "I-I've never studied martial arts."  
  
Mrs. Simon rose slowly from the couch. "I think you should go home now," she admonished Francine. "Expect me there shortly. I'm going to have a long talk with your parents."  
  
Barely able to contain her fury, Francine leaped from her chair and took several steps toward Beat. "I'm warning you," she growled as Mrs. Simon put a hand on her shoulder to restrain her. "If my dad leaves and I still don't have my own body, I'll...I'll visit you in the middle of the night, and I'll strangle you while you sleep!"  
  
The next thing she felt was Mrs. Simon's hands pushing her forcefully toward the front door. Still seething, she hardly noticed Beat's tearful, pleading voice calling after her: "Whatever I did to you, I'll make it right, I swear!"  
  
Once Mrs. Simon had escorted Francine out of the house and closed the door her, she turned to her daughter, whose eyes were welling up. "Don't cry, dear," she said compassionately. "None of what happened is your fault, no matter what Francine says."  
  
"I should talk to her parents as well," Dr. Cutler recommended. "I think that girl needs a full evaluation."  
  
Mrs. Simon put her arms around her sorrowing daughter, who was struggling to sniffle through her swollen nostrils. "What if she's right, Mum?" she said anxiously. "What if something terrible happened? If only I could remember!"  
  
"Nothing terrible happened," Mrs. Simon reassured her. "It's been business as usual between you and Francine, ever since we went to visit Mr. Putnam." As she caressed Beat's unruly hair and rabbit ears, Mavis came out of her bedroom and joined the pair on the couch.  
  
"Mum, maybe we should see Mr. Putnam again," Beat suggested.  
  
"That may be difficult to accomplish," Mavis told her.  
  
"Why?" asked Mrs. Simon, turning to face the girl.  
  
"There's something else you've forgotten, Beat," said Mavis. "Something they announced at school yesterday. Mr. Putnam is dead."  
  
(To be continued...) 


	3. Van Stalls

"It's got to be a trick," said Francine to herself as she strode rapidly down the sidewalk toward the house where she had lived as Sue Ellen. "It's just got to be. If she's really forgotten everything, then there's no hope left." 

The heavy snowfall was accompanied by an arctic breeze that day, making her wish that the Frenskys could afford to put a warmer coat on her back. While passing by a light pole, she noticed that a new poster had been attached. It featured front and side views of Muffy, with the words, MISSING: MUFFY CROSSWIRE. $250,000 REWARD.

_Bless Ed Crosswire's generous heart_, she thought. Inserting her hands in her pockets, she continued walking and wondering about Muffy's fate. If she had really fled with Mr. Ratburn's untrustworthy sister, as the rumors went, then she had probably been abandoned at a rundown motel in some small town. Francine tried to console herself with the thought that Muffy had certainly suffered worse things than merely being forced into someone else's life and family.

_I knew all along that something might happen to me because of my dad's job_, she pondered quietly. _I knew I might be kidnapped or killed. But I never expected to get stuck in someone else's body. I mean, once you're born, you're you, right? You can't just change bodies like you change clothes. But what if somebody's found a way? What if it happens to me again? I was lucky this time...I'm still nine years old, and I'm still a girl...but what if next time..._

When she reached the front door of the Armstrong house, she pounded anxiously. Seconds later the door swung open, and Hank Armstrong was staring down at her with an annoyed expression. Behind him stood numerous half-filled cardboard boxes, and the floor was partially littered with packing peanuts.

"Dad, it was Beat!" Francine cried earnestly. "She switched us. She says she doesn't remember the last three weeks, but I think she's lying. Please, Dad, talk to her!"

Without a word, Mr. Armstrong closed the door again. Dejected, Francine lowered her face and turned away. "It didn't make any difference," she muttered silently.

----

While Francine bemoaned her failure, several blocks away, Van Cooper was about to experience an event that would change his life.

Several inches of snow had fallen onto the front yard of the Cooper home, and Odette and Dallin were frolicking in the white stuff. Wearing a light gray down jacket, Odette threw herself onto her back and waved her arms, leaving a long-necked imprint in the snow. Rising to her feet again, she saw that Dallin had done the same. "Look what I made, Dallin," she said proudly. "It's a snow swan."

"I made a snow devil," Dallin replied.

"It looks more like a snow angel to me," said Odette, eyeing the figure curiously.

"It's a snow devil," Dallin insisted. "Last week the reverend said that the Devil can appear as an angel of light."

"Where are the horns?" asked Odette. "Devils have horns."

"They're, uh, invisible," Dallin answered. "The Devil thought of everything."

Inside of the house, Van was seated in his wheelchair, wearing a thick white sweater and watching a wrestling match on TV. In the kitchen, Quinn had lowered the ironing board from its compartment in the wall, and was pressing one of her father's white shirts.

"Oh, yeah!" Van exclaimed gleefully. "Binky was right. Slam Wilson's really the best there is."

"You realize it's all fake, right?" asked Quinn indifferently.

"I don't care," Van replied, "as long as it looks real."

The phone rang. "Van, get that," Quinn ordered.

Van picked up the remote, muted the sound on the TV, and drove his wheelchair toward the wall, where the telephone was mounted. "Hello?" he said into the receiver...and was stunned by the voice he heard.

"Van, it's Muffy! Don't tell anyone I'm calling you!"

Van's eyes bulged. His mind raced. For the past three weeks he had spent most of his spare time worrying about his missing friend, Muffy Crosswire. And now she was talking to him on the phone...

"Er...ah...okay," he stammered. "Uh, it's nice to hear from you. How are things going?"

As Van engaged in small talk with Muffy, he gestured wildly with his free hand at Quinn, who set down her iron and walked toward him.

"...she's making minimum wage, but I don't really care, as long as there's food on the table..." Muffy rambled on.

"What is it?" asked Quinn, her hands resting on her hips. Van motioned for her to be silent, and then mouthed the name "Muffy" at her. She gave him a confused look.

"Uh, it's really nice to hear that," Van said into the phone. "My dad always says, a low-paying job is better than no job at all." He then turned to Quinn again, pointed frantically at the receiver, and moved his lips deliberately to form the word "Muffy". Quinn shook her head and shrugged.

"...I picked up some cool plastic jewelry from the thrift store..." Muffy went on. As she spoke, Van turned his wheelchair and rolled it manually to a nearby desk, where he laid out a sheet of paper, grabbed a pencil from a cup, and hastily wrote the name MUFFY. Quinn's mouth fell open when she saw it.

"Uh, yeah, that's great," Van said to Muffy over the phone. "Hey, maybe you could come over some time." Seeing that Quinn was standing still, unsure of what to do, he took the pencil in hand again and wrote, CALL POLICE.

"...the important thing is, we have health insurance now, so Angela can afford prenatal care..." Muffy continued. Quinn was still vacillating, so Van wrote down, in huge figures, "$250,000". His sister immediately bolted toward the study, where the second phone line was located.

Hundreds of miles away, in a phone booth at the side of a busy four-lane highway lined with evergreen trees, Angela Ratburn stood patiently while her young charge, Muffy Crosswire, babbled into the receiver. Angela had cut her hair short and dyed it blond, and she was wearing a worn yellow coat over a drab white blouse that was wide enough in the middle to allow her progeny to grow. Muffy, her red hair still bobbed, wore a humble green coat over her turquoise blouse and skirt. She was discernibly thinner than she had been before fleeing from Elwood City with Angela. Her tone of voice, however, suggested that she was enjoying herself more than she ever had before.

"Van, you're the sweetest, nicest, coolest boy I've ever met," she said in what must have been the fifteenth minute of her phone call. "In fact, when I come back, I think I'll make you an honorary girl."

As Muffy doted on Van, Angela glanced down the road and saw something that disturbed her greatly. Two police cars, their flashing lights muffled by the moderate snowfall, were racing down the highway in their direction.

"Uh...Muffy..." she said urgently.

"I'm not just saying that, Van. I really think you're..." Muffy turned her head, saw the approaching vehicles, and dropped the receiver. "Omifreakingosh!" she blurted out.

"Muffy? Muffy?" came Van's voice through the dangling receiver as Muffy and Angela hurriedly threw open the door of the phone booth.

"Run, Angela!" Muffy barked. "Hide! I'll hold them off!"

As Angela tore down the sidewalk with all the speed she could manage, Muffy scowled determinedly and charged in the opposite direction, toward the approaching police cars. The two cars pulled to the curb and stopped, and shortly four uniformed officers hopped out. One of them held up a sheet of paper with a picture on it, then pointed at Muffy and nodded.

Then the four officers began to run along the street toward Muffy, who was gasping and straining to run as fast as possible. As they drew closer, Muffy noted to her surprise that they were all women. She hurtled at them with breakneck speed, doing her best to imagine herself as a bowling ball.

With two yards separating her from the four policewomen, Muffy leaped into the air and flung herself at them with full force. The collision was jarring. It was a perfect strike. The officers went down in a writhing heap, with the battered, shaken, triumphant Muffy resting on top of them. As one policewoman wrapped her arms around the girl, another rose quickly to her feet and made ready to pursue Angela, but Muffy grabbed her pant leg with both hands and held on tightly, causing the officer to trip. Another officer stood and began to run, but the wriggling Muffy kicked her squarely in the knee, making her stumble.

Muffy didn't remember clearly what happened after that, except that a pair of strong arms were binding her, and her frantic attempts to kick herself free were proving useless. The other three officers were speeding down the sidewalk, but she could see no sign of Angela. Had she succeeded?

"Settle down, Muffy," a sweet but firm woman's voice said into her ear. "You're safe now. You're going home."

Muffy went limp and groaned hopelessly. She was going home. This had not been part of her plan.

(To be continued...)


	4. A Flash of Inspiration

The bronze mermaid lamp on the night stand provided Beat with enough light to carefully examine the sheet of paper in her hands. It was her first math test at Uppity Downs, and the number 100 was written and circled in red ink at the top. As she sat up in her bed, dressed in a pink nightgown, her face still swollen and puffy, she wondered how she could have possibly obtained such a high score.  
  
Mrs. Simon quietly pushed the bedroom door open, and scowled when she found that her daughter was awake and active. "You should be resting," she said firmly. "Doctor's orders."  
  
"This is unbelievable, Mum." Beat turned the paper so that her mother could see it. "I shouldn't have done better than a D on this test. There's no way I could have learned so much so quickly."  
  
"You can look at that later." Mrs. Simon plucked the test from Beat's hands, then switched off the mermaid lamp, leaving the room in semi-darkness. "Now I want you to rest."  
  
Beat reluctantly rested her head on the pillow, her rabbit ears leaning against the headboard. Her mother lifted the red quilt and laid it over her. Once Mrs. Simon had left the room and closed the door, Beat reached over to the night stand and grabbed her cell phone. Pulling the quilt all the way over her head, she flipped the phone open, and the confined space was filled with a pale green glow. She was determined to call Francine and resolve whatever difficult matter had arisen between them, regardless of the state of her health.  
  
"Hello?" came Francine's voice.  
  
"Frankie," Beat whispered earnestly.  
  
"What is it?" asked Francine peevishly.  
  
Beat spoke in a low voice so that her mother wouldn't hear. "I'm in bed. My mum's afraid my brain's been scrambled, so she's treating me like an invalid. If not for that, I'd come over."  
  
"Did you talk to my dad?"  
  
"I called him like you said. I wasn't sure what to say to him, but I don't think he was listening anyway."  
  
Francine drew in a deep, hopeless breath and let it out. "He won't listen to me, either."  
  
"You know I'd never willingly hurt you, Frankie," Beat went on. "You know how I feel about you."  
  
"Then how do you explain what happened today?" Francine shot back.  
  
"I can't," Beat admitted. "It's all very odd. My parents say I acted differently after meeting with Mr. Putnam. They say I talked more like a grownup. I did much better on my schoolwork than I should have. It's like I took a smart pill, and when it wore off I forgot everything."  
  
"What about the martial arts?" asked Francine incredulously. "Was that another pill?"  
  
"I don't know." Beat thought for a second. "Dad told me that Mr. Putnam was working on an invention that would put knowledge in your brain without your having to study. Maybe he used it on me."  
  
"Weird," Francine marveled. "With an invention like that, you wouldn't have to go to school anymore."  
  
"Wouldn't that be lovely," Beat remarked.  
  
Francine suddenly gasped. "Omigosh! Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"  
  
"What?" asked Beat, her voice rising in volume. "What are you thinking?"  
  
"If...if you could do that..." Francine stammered as her mind raced. "If you could use a machine to put stuff in your brain and make yourself smarter...what if you could also take stuff out of your brain and...and put it in somebody else's brain..."  
  
"Good heavens!" exclaimed Beat in a normal voice instead of a whisper. "I didn't think of that!"  
  
"Beat, we've got to get together and figure this out," said Francine with a tone of urgency. "But I can't come to your place. I'm grounded for beating you up."  
  
"Then I'll just have to unground you," Beat offered. "I'll tell your mum that I..."  
  
Beat stopped in mid-sentence when the quilt was ripped away from over her head. Her mother's stern face was hanging over her, eerie shadows cast upon it by the light from the cell phone.  
  
Mrs. Simon snatched the phone from Beat's hand, flipped it closed, and stuffed it into her pocket. "No talking," she ordered. "Rest."  
  
"But, Mum, my brain's okay!" Beat protested. "I know what happened to my memory now!"  
  
Mrs. Simon paid no heed to her daughter, but walked out of the bedroom and closed the door. Beat sighed with exasperation, laid her head down, and began to fiddle with her left ear.  
  
(To be continued...) 


	5. Muffy Comes Home

The next morning was Sunday. Four more inches of snow had fallen on Elwood City the past evening, and thick, gray clouds threatened to unleash a new torrent of flakes at any moment. Ed and Millicent Crosswire, who had arrived at church promptly every week for as long as anyone could remember, would be late today. They had a more pressing matter to attend to...the safe return of their daughter, Muffy. 

They trudged hastily through the snow and into the police station, eager expressions on their faces. Ed sported a fine cashmere suit, while Millicent wore a fancy red dress, and cradled baby Tyson in her left arm. They had dressed for church out of habit more than anything else.

"We're the Crosswires," Millicent announced to the uniformed rabbit woman at the reception desk. "Is Muffy here?"

"She'll be right out," the receptionist responded, looking down a nearby hallway. "Wait, here she comes now."

Around the corner walked Muffy, still wearing her thrift store blouse and skirt, her bobbed red hair looking rather straggly. She was escorted by one of the policewomen who had apprehended her the previous day. Upon seeing her parents, she lowered her eyes and made a sulky expression.

"Muffin, it's you!" Overjoyed, Mr. Crosswire crouched and put his arms around his daughter. His wife also knelt down, careful to keep her dress from making contact with the frosty mud they had tracked in.

"Hi, Mommy and Daddy," Muffy indifferently greeted her misty-eyed parents.

Ed and Millicent then took turns kissing Muffy on her cheeks. "I'm so glad you're safe," Mrs. Crosswire gushed. "I worried about you constantly. Don't ever run away from us again."

"I'll never hit you again, I promise," said Mr. Crosswire earnestly.

"Oh, Muffy, I was so afraid we had lost you forever," Mrs. Crosswire went on.

"That's it?" said Muffy in a surprised tone, as her mother caressed her now-short hair. "Aren't you gonna punish me or anything?"

"You're going back to Uppity Downs," Mr. Crosswire replied firmly. "And you'll take the bus, until we get you a new chauffeur. And no allowance for the rest of the school year. And we're still debating how long to ground you for."

"Let's go home now," said Mrs. Crosswire sweetly. "All your friends are waiting there." In her left arm, Tyson began to fidget and whimper.

As she followed her parents through the door of the police station, the scowling Muffy tried to comfort herself with the thought that, although she had gained nothing for herself by running away, she had given new hope to Angela Ratburn.

About ten minutes later, the four members of the Crosswire family entered their mansion through the front door, to find a throng of kids standing in the spacious living room, watched over by the French manservant Claude.

"Muffy's back!" Alan exulted as the kids began to cheer. He rushed to meet the girl, followed by Arthur, Adil, Binky, Prunella, George, Fern, and several of Muffy's classmates from Uppity Downs. Van came up behind them, and Marina used the whine of his wheelchair to guide her as she hobbled along, cane in hand.

"What in the world did you do to your hair?" Prunella asked the still gloomy-looking Muffy as the kids mobbed her.

"You're so thin!" Arthur remarked.

"My name is Adil Faruk," Adil introduced himself.

"You must be Arthur's friend from Turkey," said Muffy, shaking his hand.

"Did they catch the guy who kidnapped you?" Binky asked her.

"I wasn't kidnapped," Muffy replied. "And Angela's not a guy, and they didn't catch her, thank goodness."

"Hey, Muffy, will you be my valentine?" Van called out as the other kids made room for his wheelchair to pass.

"Van, I thought I was your valentine," Marina protested.

"I can't be your valentine, Van," said Muffy, grinning. "I'm gonna make you an honorary girl, remember?"

"What does that mean, anyway?" asked Van as he accompanied the other kids into the living room, where they all seated themselves on the expensive furniture.

"It's the highest honor that can be bestowed upon a boy," Muffy explained. "You get all the privileges of girlhood, without actually being a girl. You can share secrets with girls, you can go to all-girl slumber parties..."

"He is_not_ going into the girls' locker room," said Fern indignantly.

"Well, duh," said Muffy, folding her arms.

"We'll have to start calling him Vanna," George joked.

"Seriously, Muffy," Fern insisted, "I don't think the girls will go for that."

"Where are the girls, anyway?" Muffy glanced around. "Where's Francine? Where's Sue Ellen? And Beat? And Mavis? They should be here."

"Sue Ellen's gone," Arthur answered. "Her dad said something about an emergency assignment."

"Omigosh!" exclaimed Muffy. "For how long?"

"He didn't say," Arthur went on. "But Francine's been trying to convince us all week that she's really Sue Ellen, and Sue Ellen is really her. So maybe it's Francine who's gone." The other kids chuckled.

"Francine's grounded," Alan informed Muffy. "She asked me to meet at her place with Beat and Mavis, but I told her I was coming here instead."

"What's she grounded for?" asked Muffy.

"That's the incredible part," Alan continued, shaking his head. "It sounds like Francine and Beat had a pretty serious fight, and Beat's in bad shape."

"That's crazy!" cried the astonished Muffy. "They're best friends! They're more than friends! Uh, I mean, they're like sisters!"

----

"We're like sisters, Mrs. Frensky," Beat explained to Francine's mother as she sat on the couch next to Francine. "We'd never hurt each other. If Frankie says I was wearing a mask when she beat me up, then I believe her, and I think you should, too." Her nose and right eye looked slightly less bruised and swollen than the previous day.

"Show me the mask," said Mrs. Frensky, who was winding up the cord of her vacuum cleaner, "and maybe then I'll believe your story. Until then, she's not going anywhere except for temple and school."

"But I don't remember where the mask is," Beat lamented.

The door to the apartment flew open, and Mavis strolled in, wearing a light beige coat and a brown backpack over her green Sunday dress. "Hi, girls," she said, hopping onto the couch with Beat and Francine while removing her pack. "Hope I haven't missed anything important."

"Glad you could make it, Mavis," said Francine warmly. "I know you'd rather be at Muffy's right now. So would I."

"Same here," Beat chimed in. Mrs. Frensky retired into the parents' bedroom and closed the door.

"I figured you could use all the brain power you could get," said Mavis.

"I asked Alan and Fern to come," Francine related. "Alan's really smart, and Fern's good at detective stuff. But they went to Muffy's, so it looks like it's just the three of us. And we have to think of something fast, because the movers are already here."

Mavis suddenly raised a finger. "I have an idea. I'll go over to Mr. Armstrong's house and talk to him. Maybe I can win us some time."

"Good idea," said Beat. "Let's all go."

"I'll go alone," Mavis insisted. "He doesn't know me. If he sees either of you, he'll get suspicious."

"Okay," said Francine. "You go, we'll stay." Mavis jumped from the couch, strapped on her backpack, and hurried out the door.

"All right, Frankie," said Beat, "where do we start?"

"First of all," Francine began, "I wish you would call me Sue Ellen when nobody else is around. Second, we've got to be really careful. If we find out where my parents are going, we can't tell anyone else."

"Why not?"

Francine breathed deeply. "I've never told you this before, but...my dad has made some enemies."

As Francine and Beat counseled together, Mavis walked along the street toward the Armstrong house, in front of which a cargo truck had parked. The words TOLON MOVERS were emblazoned on its side. The truck's bay door was open, and two men clad in sweaters were carrying a dining table up the ramp. As Mavis drew closer, she observed that Mr. Armstrong was standing inside the house, a little way from the front door. Gripping the strap of her backpack, she stepped inside the house without knocking. "Hello, there," the cat man greeted her.

"You're Hank Armstrong, the diplomat," said Mavis with an air of breathless excitement. "Beat told me so much about you."

"You know Beat?" asked Mr. Armstrong as he leaned against a wall.

"We're classmates," Mavis replied. She pulled off her pack and laid it on the floor by her feet. "When I heard you were moving, I knew I had to meet you right away. You see, international diplomacy is a subject that has always fascinated me."

"Really?" Mr. Armstrong mused. "How old are you?"

"I'm nine," Mavis answered. "I understand you've been all over the world. I've traveled to a lot of places as well." She reached down and opened the zipper on her backpack. "I'd like to show you some of the things I've picked up."

Meanwhile, Francine and Beat were still analyzing the events of the past week, looking for any clues that might lead them to an explanation. "I'll tell you what I think," Francine said to Beat. "I think Mr. Putnam brainwashed you, and then made you switch our bodies. I think you did it against your will."

"Maybe so." Beat shook her head. "I don't know anything about brainwashing."

"When I was in Nigeria, I watched this movie with my parents," Francine recounted. "It was about a soldier who was captured by...communists, I think. They brainwashed him and sent him back to America. They used him to kill people. He had to obey them whether he liked it or not. And he never remembered what he did when he was under their power."

"Interesting."

"And there was a surprise at the end. His mother was a communist. She was the one who controlled him the whole time. And when he found out, he killed her."

"Ouch." Beat winced. "Sounds like a creepy movie. What's the title?"

"I don't remember."

Beat started to rub her sore chin. "His own mother. That's insane. On the other hand, the enemy agent is usually the person you least..."

Suddenly Beat's eyes widened. Her jaw dropped, revealing one of her missing bottom teeth. Her expression froze like this for several seconds while her mind spun wildly. "What is it?" Francine asked her.

"It's like a portable slide projector," Mavis informed Mr. Armstrong. They were holding either end of a device that Mavis had pulled from her backpack. It consisted of a central unit--a small, metallic black box with several dials and switches in it--with two black wires emanating from its sides, and terminating in visor-like appendages. "You put it over your eyes, and it shows you pictures of the places I've visited."

"Fascinating." Mr. Armstrong slowly fitted the visor on top of his nose. It appeared to him that he was staring into two mostly overlapping TV screens. The dark fabric of the visor shut out all external light. Mavis followed suit, pulling off her spectacles and placing her own visor over her eyes. Allowing the glasses to dangle over her palm, she grasped the central unit and prepared to flip one of the switches...

...when she suddenly heard a girl's voice shrieking, "Stop!"

She felt the unit being ripped out of her hand, and the visor torn away from her eyes. Quickly replacing her spectacles, she saw Francine and Beat standing between her and Mr. Armstrong. Francine was now cradling the device in her hands, while Beat was running her fingers over one of the visors.

"Does it bring back any memories?" Francine asked Beat. "Is this what you used to switch our bodies?"

"I-I don't know," said Beat with a tone of disappointment.

Mavis became indignant. "Give that back, Francine," she ordered.

Beat took a step toward Mavis and glowered at her. "It was you who wiped my memory," she accused the girl. "That's why I went to your place instead of my own. If I'd lost my memory before going to your house, I would've never thought of going there."

Shock and fright filled Mavis' visage. "That's not true!" she exclaimed.

"It was you who made me switch Francine and Sue Ellen's bodies." Beat's voice grew harsh. "You used some kind of mind-altering device on me. You're mixed up with Mr. Putnam and his wild inventions somehow."

"No! No!" Mavis shook her head desperately. "Give it back!" She lunged at the black device, but Francine leaped backwards to keep it from her hands. Mr. Armstrong looked at Mavis, then at Francine, unsure of what was transpiring.

"I'm not giving it back until you tell us what it does," Francine said menacingly.

"It's for viewing pictures," replied Mavis in a nervous voice. "That's all."

"Is that so?" Francine grinned. She handed Beat one of the visors, and began to place the other over her eyes. "Hey, Beat, what do you say we look at some pictures?"

"No!" shouted Mavis as she grabbed the central unit and tried to wrestle it from Francine's hand. Francine quickly dropped her visor, laid both hands on the unit, and struggled with Mavis for it. Seconds later Mavis let go, apparently afraid that the device might break.

Mavis fought to calm herself while Francine idly wrapped the visor wires around her fingers. "You've got to give it back," she urged. "You don't know how to use it. It's dangerous."

"Francine, I think you should give it back to her," said Mr. Armstrong sternly.

"Don't listen to her, Dad," Francine responded. "For all you know, she's working for your enemies."

"I am not!" Mavis retorted.

For a number of seconds Beat and Francine glared silently at Mavis, who glared back at them. Francine carelessly flipped one of the visors back and forth in her hand. Then Mavis' expression became serious and she began to speak.

"Listen to me...Sue Ellen. If you ever want to return to your own body, you must give me the device and allow me to proceed."

Fear and hope welled up in Francine's heart. She fought them back and tried to compose herself.

"Why should I trust you?" she asked petulantly.

"It's your only chance," Mavis answered.

Francine placed the black device in Beat's hands, then folded her arms and narrowed her eyes at Mavis. "I don't know who you are. You could be a spy who switched bodies with Mavis. You could be trying to switch bodies with my dad. Then you'd have the device, and you'd be a grown man against three little girls."

"I assure you," said Mavis slowly, "I have no intention of hurting any of you. In fact, I'm trying to help you. I want you to have your body back as much as you do. Now give me the device."

Francine's cockiness gave way to uncertainty. Perhaps Mavis was telling the truth, and she would lose all hope of becoming Sue Ellen again unless she cooperated. On the other hand, if Mavis was allowed to continue and turned out to have a sinister agenda, the repercussions for the Armstrong family, and even the nation itself, could be terrible...

Beat gazed at her, anxiously wiggling the device in her hands.

Then Francine made her choice.

(To be continued...)


	6. 1 Equals 2

"Give it to her, Beat," said Francine with a tone of resignation.  
  
Without hesitation, Beat started to hand the central unit and its attached visors to Mavis, who reached out to receive it.  
  
Then, quick as lightning, Francine put out her hand, wrapped her fingers around Mavis' spectacles, and yanked them from her face. "Run!" she shrieked, pushing Beat toward the still-open front door.  
  
Wrapping her arm around the black device, Beat sped through the door with Francine in tow, while Mavis blindly stumbled after them. "I can't see!" she yelped.  
  
Not stopping for an instant, Francine and Beat rushed down the path leading to the Armstrong house, then hurried along the snow-moistened sidewalk as fast as their feet would take them. As she ran, Francine tossed Mavis' glasses into a snowbank next to a picket fence. They sank into the powdery snow, leaving a telltale imprint.  
  
Shortly Mr. Armstrong came out of the house, leading the nearsighted Mavis by the hand. "Please find my glasses," she begged him. "I can't see without them." One of the movers, a hefty-looking duck man, jumped down from the truck bay and gestured toward the pile of snow where he had seen Francine throw the spectacles.  
  
Francine and Beat didn't stop running until they had rounded a corner, and found themselves in front of the Read house. Beat looked over her shoulder to make sure that they were out of Mavis' sight, then pointed toward the house and said, "She won't look for us here. She hardly knows Arthur." Francine nodded, and the two girls charged through the snow-covered lawn and into the house without waiting for a welcome. Francine quickly closed the door, then leaned her back against it, panting and sighing with relief.  
  
A formal but hectic scene greeted them--the Reads were preparing for their weekly church services. Mr. Read's unfastened tie was drooped over his shoulders, while Mrs. Read, sporting her best dress, was buckling Kate into a baby seat. Pal barked excitedly and bounded over to meet the visitors.  
  
"Hello, girls," Mrs. Read said to them, then gasped when she saw Beat's black eye and puffy nose. "My goodness, what happened to you?"  
  
"Frankie beat me up," Beat replied as she scratched Pal's ears with one hand while gripping the black device with the other. "It's nothing."  
  
Arthur, wearing a white shirt and bowtie, and D.W., clad in a pink dress and with a bow in her hair, emerged from the living room. "Hey, Arthur," said Francine, smiling. "Is Muffy back? How is she?"  
  
"Her hair's a lot shorter, and she's lost weight," Arthur replied, "but she's fine." He examined Beat's battered face thoughtfully. "You don't look so good, Beat."  
  
"You look like (bleep)," D.W. chimed in.  
  
"Dora Winifred!" growled Mrs. Read indignantly.  
  
"Why aren't you dressed for church?" D.W. asked when she beheld the casual clothes that Francine and Beat were wearing.  
  
"I, uh, go to church on Saturday," Francine answered.  
  
"And I don't go to church at all," Beat added.  
  
D.W. turned to her mother. "Mom, Beat doesn't go to church," she said innocently. "She's gonna go to (bleep)."  
  
"No, she's not," responded Mrs. Read as she laid a small white blanket over Kate's baby seat.  
  
Arthur and D.W. followed Francine and Beat curiously as they made their way to the living room. "What's that thing you've got in your hand?" Arthur asked Beat.  
  
"We think it's a body-switching device," Francine told him.  
  
"Oh, so that's what made you and Sue Ellen...uh, I mean, you and Francine..."  
  
"We need to keep it away from Mavis," Francine continued. "She tried to use it on my dad...er, Mr. Armstrong."  
  
"Can we try it?" asked D.W. enthusiastically.  
  
"No," Beat replied. "It's dangerous if you don't know how to use it."  
  
"Please?" D.W. pleaded, hopping up and down. "I wanna switch bodies with Arthur."  
  
"No way!" Arthur snapped at her. "I don't want to be in your body. You're a girl. And I'd feel stupid in that dress."  
  
"I don't wanna switch forever," D.W. rejoined. "I just wanna switch for a little while. Just to see what it's like."  
  
"I've already seen you naked," said Arthur peevishly, "if that's what you're talking about."  
  
D.W. grinned at him. "Admit it, Arthur. You'd have so much fun being a girl, you wouldn't want to go back."  
  
Arthur groaned and rolled his eyes. Beat's cell phone rang. She reached down with her free hand to answer it, but Francine raised a hand to stop her. "It might be Mavis," she warned.  
  
The phone continued to chime. "Let's go upstairs," Beat suggested. "If she hears Arthur and D.W. in the background, she might guess where we are." She then stuffed the black device into Arthur's hands. "Hide this," she commanded. "And don't try to use it."  
  
As Beat's cell phone beeped stubbornly, she and Francine climbed the stairway, went into Arthur's room, and closed the door after them. Then Beat took up the phone and flipped it open. "Hello?"  
  
"Let me talk to Sue Ellen," came Mavis' firm voice. Looking slightly distressed, Beat handed the phone to Francine.  
  
"Is this Mavis?" Francine inquired.  
  
"You must return the device to me," Mavis urged her. "It's very dangerous in the wrong hands. You could end up frying someone's brain."  
  
"I'm not giving it back until my dad leaves," replied Francine, painfully aware that she was sealing her own doom by protecting her father.  
  
"I'm not trying to hurt your dad," Mavis insisted. "And if I was, I've got other devices where that one came from. So you'll accomplish nothing by hiding it from me, other than sentencing yourself to remain in Francine's body for the rest of your natural life."  
  
Francine felt her heart plunge, but she knew she had to be strong and confront whatever menace she was faced with. "Who are you really?" she asked boldly.  
  
"Will it make a difference if I tell you?" Mavis responded.  
  
"I don't know," said Francine. "It might."  
  
She heard a few seconds of silence on the line.  
  
"You may find this confusing at first," came Mavis' voice, this time a bit softer. "It's hard to explain, especially to children. I appear to you to be one person, but I'm actually two people."  
  
Francine suddenly felt as if everything she knew about arithmetic was flying out the window. "Which two people?" she asked.  
  
"Mavis Cutler," was Mavis' reply, "and Andrew Putnam."  
  
(To be continued...) 


	7. Mavis Tells All

"I don't understand," said Francine into Beat's cell phone.  
  
"Then I'll explain," came Mavis' voice. "You're familiar with the old saying, 'the eyes are the windows of the soul'? Andrew Putnam spent the last years of his life developing a technology that would read and write the human brain like a computer hard drive, by directly stimulating the optic nerve. He invented a device called the Opticron, which is still being tested. This device, which you now have in your possession, is capable of transferring knowledge and memories from one brain into another, as well as erasing memories up to a specific point in the past."  
  
"So that's how you switched our bodies," said Francine with interest.  
  
"And erased Beat's memories," Mavis continued. "I told you that I attended Uppity Downs because of my uncle's will. That was a lie. I never had a rich uncle. I got into Uppity Downs the same way Beat did--by volunteering for Mr. Putnam's experiments. He knew he wouldn't live much longer, so he planned to transfer the contents of his brain into some young bodies, so that his scientific knowledge and experience wouldn't be lost."  
  
"Whoa," Francine marveled. "That's, like, immortality."  
  
"That's one way to look at it," said Mavis, "but to him, it was simply a matter of conserving resources. If you can preserve the minds of the old scientists, then you no longer have to bother with training a generation of new ones."  
  
"So that's what he did to you," Francine mused. "He copied his brain into your brain."  
  
"In a manner of speaking," Mavis replied.  
  
"And he did the same thing to Beat?"  
  
"Precisely."  
  
An expression of wonder formed on Francine's face. Beat, who was standing with her in Arthur's room, did her best to listen in on the conversation with her long ears.  
  
"It's a perfect cover," Mavis went on. "Since I possess the memories and personality of Mavis Cutler, I can easily pass myself off as a normal little girl. But I also have Andrew Putnam's knowledge and memories, so I can continue with his research and inventions."  
  
"So what does all this have to do with switching our bodies?" asked Francine.  
  
"That was an experiment," Mavis explained. "Beat used the Opticron to switch you, then planted listening devices in your bedrooms so she could analyze your responses to the situation."  
  
"Why did you pick us to be guinea pigs? Why didn't you experiment on someone who knew what was going on?"  
  
Mavis paused and took a breath. "One of the first things you learn as a scientist is that prior knowledge of the nature of an experiment can corrupt the results. Beat had no intention of leaving you switched for longer than two weeks. If you'd known that, you would have reacted differently."  
  
"Yeah," said Francine thoughtfully. "I wouldn't have pounded Beat to a pulp, for one thing."  
  
"It's exactly that kind of irrational response that worries us," Mavis went on. "It's hard enough when two little girls get their bodies mixed up, but what if it happened to the entire population of Elwood City? Or New York? Think about it."  
  
Francine shuddered as she drew a mental picture of thousands of confused, angry New Yorkers swarming the streets in search of their own bodies...  
  
"We have reason to believe that others are developing similar technologies," said Mavis ominously, "including the nation's enemies. Once they perfect the science, they'll use it to gain an intelligence advantage over us, or for purposes of terrorism. It's only a matter of time."  
  
"If this is so urgent," Francine asked her, "then shouldn't you take it to the government?"  
  
"At one time Mr. Putnam was supported by grants from the Departments of Health," Mavis answered. "But when he started to work on the Opticron, his ethics came into question, and Congress passed a law banning his research. He had to continue in secret. That's why, when Beat found out that your dad's a CIA agent, she tried to switch you back right away. Unfortunately, she moved a little too slowly."  
  
"And now I'm stuck," Francine complained.  
  
"There's still a chance." Mavis' voice rose to a hopeful pitch. "Bring me the Opticron, and I'll use it to copy Mr. Armstrong's knowledge and find out where your body is."  
  
Francine thought for a second, then became suspicious. "How do I know you're not really after his secrets? How do I know you're not an enemy agent?"  
  
"Haven't you listened to a word I've said?" Mavis' voice became emotional. "I just told you all our secrets. You could tip off the government about us, and then our work would be destroyed forever. I've risked everything to help you, and you still don't trust me!"  
  
The girl's words struck a chord in Francine's heart, but she knew that she couldn't afford to take chances, no matter how much she wanted to trust Mavis.  
  
"I'm sorry, Mavis," she said somberly. "You'll just have to think of another way to help me." As Mavis began to protest, Francine closed up the cell phone and handed it to Beat.  
  
"So, what happens now?" Beat asked her.  
  
Francine sighed despondently. "The rest of my life."  
  
(To be continued...) 


	8. The Sisterhood Gathers

At precisely 12:42 pm that Sunday, the Tolon Movers truck rolled away from the curb, headed down the street, and disappeared over the horizon. Exactly five minutes later a taxi pulled up, and Mr. Armstrong climbed inside, carrying a briefcase. Francine, watching from the roof of her apartment building, focused on the young man who drove the cab, trying to determine if he was Mitch Branca, Catherine's new boyfriend. She had only seen him once or twice since her life as Sue Ellen had been stolen from her.  
  
She wanted to cry, but felt as if whatever muscles produced the emotion of sadness were utterly fatigued. It had all occurred so quickly, and her life was now changed forever, as if she had carelessly cut off her hand on a dare. Something told her that the coming days would only be more painful, as she realized the true depth of what she had lost.  
  
The man who was ultimately responsible for this outrage was dead. Seeking revenge on Mavis was pointless, as she, like Beat, was a victim of Putnam's egomaniacal scheme to perpetuate his own consciousness at the expense of the lives of others. Hence, Francine felt no bitterness as she and Beat stood in Mavis' living room, handling an important matter of business.  
  
"Here it is," she said as she placed the Opticron device in Mavis' waiting hands. "I thought about destroying it, but you'd just make another one."  
  
"Thanks for giving it back." Mavis carried the device toward her bedroom, as Francine and Beat followed her. "I'm terribly sorry that you lost your family, Sue Ellen, but I could have helped you if you'd trusted me."  
  
"If you really want us to trust you," Francine replied firmly, "then you'll give Mavis her life back."  
  
"You wiped Putnam from my brain," Beat added. "You can wipe him from your brain the same way."  
  
Mavis closed up the drawer where she had laid the device, then faced Francine and Beat with a serious look. "You don't know what you're asking. The only way to remove Mr. Putnam from my mind is to erase my memories back to the time of the transfer. I'd lose an entire year. And I'm not quite ready to give up my work yet."  
  
"Mr. Putnam has to die like everybody else," Francine rejoined. "Those are the rules."  
  
"The rules can be changed," Mavis answered. By this time the three girls had left the bedroom, and Mavis was pulling her coat down from a hanger in the closet. "Death doesn't have to be the end anymore. My inventions will revolutionize life as we know it. By the time you grow old, people will transfer their minds into younger bodies on a routine basis."  
  
"Younger bodies?" Beat repeated as she and Francine followed Mavis through the front door into the cold winter air. "You mean children, right?"  
  
"Children, teenagers, whatever," Mavis replied.  
  
As the girls walked along the street in the direction of Van's house, Beat asked Mavis, "And what if I don't want to share my brain with some old geezer who's about to kick the bucket?"  
  
"Mr. Putnam chose his hosts carefully," Mavis answered. "He wanted children who cared more about the pursuit of knowledge than anything else. Children who would gladly allow a super genius to take up residence in their minds. Children like you and me. Well, he also had a thing for girls, but that's another story."  
  
They soon arrived at the Cooper home, to find that Van and Muffy were seated in front of a throng of girls, including Fern, Jenna, Prunella, and Marina. Muffy, who had traded her thrift store clothes for one of her fancy dresses, greeted Francine as she entered. "Glad you could make it."  
  
"My mom gave me a break today, because you came back," Francine explained. "But tomorrow I'm grounded for real."  
  
She took a seat on a couch next to Prunella and Marina, while Beat and Mavis squatted on the floor, as all the spaces on the furniture were taken. "Now that we're all here," announced Muffy, "the meeting of the sisterhood will come to order. Now then, where shall we begin?"  
  
Jenna quickly raised her hand. "Tell us about running away, Muffy." Van and the girls started to chuckle.  
  
"All in good time," said Muffy, grinning. "There's so much to say, and I can't say it all in one afternoon. I'm thinking of writing a book about it. Or a very long email."  
  
"What happened to Sue Ellen?" Prunella chimed in.  
  
"Her dad was called on some kind of emergency mission," Muffy replied. "He didn't say how long he would be gone."  
  
"They went to Karjakistan," Marina remarked. "They'll probably be there for as long as U.S. troops are there. In other words, forever."  
  
Muffy lowered her head sadly. "We will all miss our good friend Sue Ellen."  
  
"What are you talking about?" Fern gestured toward Francine. "She's sitting right over there." Francine scowled as the other girls began to laugh.  
  
Muffy raised her hands to silence the group. "Like the rest of you, I hope she'll be back with us before long. In the meantime, we can all expect to receive postcards from Karjakistan very soon."  
  
"I hope they'll be all right," said Francine, hoping to draw attention away from herself by not being the only girl not to speak. "It's not a safe place to be right now."  
  
"I still have the tooth necklace she gave me," said Jenna wistfully.  
  
"I remember when Mr. Wald told us that she had HIV," Fern recalled. "It was a very sad day."  
  
"I miss her already," said Prunella gloomily.  
  
Muffy cleared her throat. "It's always hard to lose a sister. However, a new member is joining our sisterhood today...that is, if we can all agree on admitting him."  
  
All the other girls shot incredulous looks at Van, who appeared a bit embarrassed. He was sitting in an easy chair, his legs jutting out clumsily, his wheelchair folded up and leaning against the arm of the chair.  
  
"I move that we confer upon Van Cooper the title of honorary girl," said Muffy officiously, "and allow him into our circle as a sister."  
  
The girls murmured to each other for a few seconds. Finally Beat raised her hand and said, "I second the motion."  
  
Francine, Jenna, Prunella, and Fern stared at the rabbit-aardvark girl with surprise. "I know this is unprecedented," Beat tried to explain, "but I can see where Muffy's coming from. Up to now we've all assumed that a boy can't be relied upon to behave as a proper girl. And perhaps that's true about most of the boys we know, but I think Van's different."  
  
"Why is he different?" Fern inquired.  
  
"Let me handle that one, Beat," said Muffy. "We've all known Van since the start of fourth grade. Some of us have known him longer. In all that time, I've never known him to break his word, or spoil a secret, or do anything to bring shame to a girl."  
  
"Me neither," said Prunella.  
  
"Well, this morning he asked you to be his valentine," Marina recounted, "even though I'm already his valentine. But I know he only did that because he was happy to see you."  
  
"And that's not all," Muffy went on. "Whenever a nasty rumor gets spread around, Van's the one who puts a stop to it. Fern, remember when George told everybody that you were a ghost? What did Van do? He went straight to you."  
  
"Yeah." Fern smiled pleasantly at Van. "I do remember."  
  
"Francine, remember when Binky and Rattles told everybody that you had a crush on Beat? What did Van do? He brought it to your attention."  
  
"Yeah." The vivid memory of that incident caused Francine to chuckle. "And I ended up with a black eye. Thanks, Van."  
  
Then it struck her. The gossip about her and Beat...her fight with Binky...her defeat at the hands of Rattles...none of it had happened to Sue Ellen. Yet she suddenly remembered it as if she had been a part of it. But how?  
  
"Uh, Muffy," said Van timidly, "what exactly would I have to do as an honorary girl?"  
  
Muffy grinned and waved her hand. "You don't have to do anything. You don't have to act like a girl or dress like a girl, if that's what you're thinking. Of course, if you want to be part of the sisterhood, then you have to follow the code, but you should have no trouble with that."  
  
"What's the code?" asked Van curiously.  
  
"Jenna, tell Van about the code," Muffy ordered.  
  
Jenna took a deep breath and proceeded. "Rule number one. No secret shared among the sisterhood shall be divulged to anyone outside of the sisterhood. Rule number two. One sister shall not knowingly offend another sister. Rule number three. If one sister offends another sister, no matter the nature of the offense, they shall be reconciled before the setting of the sun."  
  
"Like Francine and Beat," Muffy interjected. "They had a fight, but now they're friends again."  
  
"Rule number four," Jenna continued. "Upon entry into the sisterhood of a new member, she and all existing members shall forgive each other of all past offenses."  
  
"And you've never offended any of us," Muffy told Van.  
  
"I have just one more question," said Fern, sticking up a finger. "What if Van gets a crush on one of us? Or one of us gets a crush on him? That could get weird, if he's an honorary girl."  
  
Muffy thought for a second. "I...guess we'll have to institute some sort of 'don't ask, don't tell' policy." Her reply seemed to satisfy Fern, as she and the other girls became silent. "Now, if there are no further questions, we'll put the matter to a vote. All in favor of conferring upon Van Cooper the title of honorary girl, please raise your hands."  
  
Muffy, Francine, Beat, Jenna, Prunella, Marina, and Van lifted their hands. Fern continued to stare at Van with an expression of uncertainty.  
  
"Well, Fern?" Muffy urged her. "Are you in or out?"  
  
"I don't know, Muffy," Fern answered hesitantly. "Van's awfully cute for a girl." The other girls giggled while Van blushed. Finally, Fern slowly raised her hand.  
  
"We have a consensus," Muffy exulted. "Now, all in favor of admitting Van Cooper as a member of our sisterhood, please raise your hands." All the girls raised their hands, as did Van. "So let it be written, so let it be done."  
  
The girls applauded cheerfully. "Speech! Speech!" cried Jenna.  
  
"Uh, forgive me if I remain seated," said Van bashfully. "I'm, uh, honored to be honored with the honor of being an honorary girl, and I promise to do my best to honor this honorary title."  
  
"We know you will," said Muffy confidently.  
  
The meeting of the sisterhood wound down, and soon Fern, Jenna, Prunella, and Marina had left. Quinn and Odette were making preparations for the family dinner in the kitchen, Van's mother was giving him a bath, and Francine, Beat, and Mavis were saying their goodbyes to Muffy.  
  
"I discussed it with my mum, and I've decided to go back to Lakewood," Beat told Muffy. "I'm just not ready for Uppity Downs, especially with an empty space in my head that's three weeks long."  
  
"At least your 'mum' gives you a choice," said Muffy glumly. "I have to go back whether I like it or not, unless I can find another fugitive from the law to hook up with."  
  
"I'll see you later, Muffy," said Francine, doing her best to look happy. "It's good to have you back."  
  
"See you at school, Muffy," said Mavis.  
  
As Francine, Beat, and Mavis made their way through the front door and down the access ramp, Muffy called after Beat. "I know a good cosmetic dentist, if you need one!"  
  
"Probably the same dentist who fixed her buck teeth," said Francine as she, Beat, and Mavis meandered down the sidewalk.  
  
"Muffy had buck teeth?" Mavis marveled.  
  
"Yeah, they were huge." Francine made an arc with her hands.  
  
"How long ago did she get them fixed?" Beat asked her.  
  
"It was, uh, more than a year ago. It was..."  
  
Suddenly Francine froze in her tracks. Her eyes widened with confusion.  
  
"What?" said Mavis.  
  
Francine spoke slowly, as if she didn't believe her own words. "It was...before I moved in..."  
  
Beat and Mavis gazed at her in wonder as she fumbled anxiously with her hands.  
  
"M-Muffy got her buck teeth fixed before I-I got here," she stammered. "I never saw her with b-buck teeth. B-but I r-remember..."  
  
"What do you remember?" asked Beat with concern.  
  
Francine gestured wildly. "I remember what she looked like with buck teeth. I-I remember playing with her when she had buck teeth. But I shouldn't remember that. That was before I moved in." She spoke frantically, as if fearing to lose her voice at any moment. "And...and I remember punching Binky, and getting punched by Rattles. But that didn't happen to me. It happened to Francine."  
  
Beat turned to Mavis. "Could this be a side effect of your device?"  
  
"Perhaps." Mavis grabbed Francine by the shoulder. "Calm down, Sue Ellen. You'll be fine."  
  
Francine wiped her brow. "For a second I thought I was losing my mind," she said weakly.  
  
Meanwhile, Muffy was wandering about the living room at the Cooper house, waiting for Van to finish his bath. Odette was laying silverware on the dining table, while Quinn was checking on the steak in the oven.  
  
Something caught Muffy's eye--a slightly wadded sheet of paper that sat in a trash can next to a desk. She thoughtlessly reached down, pulled it out, and glanced over it. It was Van's handwriting: MUFFY...CALL POLICE...$250,000...  
  
Uncertain of the meaning of this cryptic message, Muffy strolled into the dining room and flashed it in front of Odette. "Hey, Odette, what's this?"  
  
The swan girl craned her neck downward to examine the paper. "Hmm...I don't know," she muttered.  
  
Quinn looked over from the oven. "Oh, that," she said glibly. "Van wrote it when he was on the phone with you."  
  
Dumbfounded, Muffy walked slowly away from the dining room. The implications of what Van had written rushed into her mind with breakneck speed.  
  
Van Cooper, her best friend in the world who happened to be a boy, had turned her over to the police. For money. For a paltry sum of $250,000.  
  
She fought back tears. How could Van do this to her, and yet pretend to be her friend? How could he betray her like this?  
  
Gritting her teeth, she crumpled the paper in her hand. She hated Van. She wanted to rip the smiling beak right off his face. But she had just made him an honorary girl, and admitted him into the sisterhood...according to the code, she had to forgive him...but she couldn't...ever...  
  
(To be continued...) 


	9. Francine Has Two Mommies

"Wake up, Frankie." 

Francine's eyelids slowly rose. The familiar, grinning face of David Beckham greeted her from the poster on her ceiling. She slowly turned her head and noticed that Catherine was no longer in her bed, and had left her quilt in disarray. Rubbing her eyes, Francine bent herself into a sitting position. It was Monday, a school day. Everything seemed normal, including the cold draft coming through the window. Yet she felt that something was wrong...something had changed...

As her pajama-clad feet hit the cold floor, she remembered something strange, even humorous. She had spent the past week under the impression that she was Sue Ellen in Francine's body. Sue Ellen's parents had suddenly departed, leaving her emotionally devastated. It had been painful and difficult, but surely not real. She was, and always had been, Francine Frensky, after all.

But wait...it was all true...her parents were gone, and she would never see them again...this wasn't her real bedroom...

Suddenly confused, Francine rushed to the bathroom and glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Straight brown hair, ears on the sides of her head, a monkey nose...the same face she had always seen looking back at her. What had she expected? Cat ears and curls?

That's exactly what she had expected.

Something was going in in her brain, and she could make no sense of it. This was her real face, her real bathroom, her real apartment. So why was she staring into the mirror in surprise, wondering what had happened to her cat ears and curly hair?

Then she remembered. She was Sue Ellen in Francine's body, and had been for over a week.

No, it wasn't true! She was Francine, and she was in her own body...

"You done in there, Frankie?" asked Catherine, who was standing inside the bathroom door frame, wearing a green robe.

"Um...uh..." said Francine to her sister. She had known Catherine forever, but for some reason had to convince herself that she really had a sister.

Wandering out of the bathroom, Francine headed toward the kitchen, where her mother was frying eggs on the stove. She recognized the apartment as the place where she had always lived. But somehow she knew that she had lived in India, Costa Rica, Nigeria, and countless other places. How could this be true? Was her brain telling her lies?

"Hungry, Frankie?" Mrs. Frensky asked her with a smile.

"Famished," Francine replied. She knew that this woman was her mother, but there was another woman, a red-haired woman who she might never see again, who was also her mother. Did she have two mothers?

"Did you get all your homework done?" Mrs. Frensky inquired.

As she stood in the entrance to the kitchen, Francine pictured two sheets of math homework in her mind...one signed with her name, the other with Sue Ellen's. She had finished both of them. So that was it...

"Mom, I need to call Mavis," she blurted out.

"Well, don't take too long," her mother responded. "You'll be late for school."

Without waiting a moment, Francine grabbed the phone, base and all, and carried with her into her bedroom, closing the door on the cord. She anxiously dialed Mavis' number. "Hello, is Mavis there?"

"Hold on," came Dr. Cutler's voice.

A few seconds passed. "This is Mavis."

"Mavis, something weird's happened to me," said Francine with urgency. "I don't know how to describe it."

"Let me guess," Mavis conjectured. "Part of you thinks you're Francine, and the other part thinks you're Sue Ellen."

Francine was stunned that Mavis had guessed so accurately. "Yeah, that sums it up. Do I have, like, multiple personality disorder or something?"

"No, then you'd have only one personality at a time," Mavis replied. "You have two people in your head now, like I do. The Opticron was supposed to permanently erase Francine's memories from your brain and replace them with Sue Ellen's, but it didn't work. Which means the same thing that's happening to you is probably happening to Sue Ellen right now, wherever she is."

"Great," Francine grumbled. "How do I fix it? How do I go back to having just one person in my head?"

"That depends," said Mavis. "Which person do you want to erase?"

Francine thought for a few seconds, then her eyes widened with panic. "Omigosh, I don't know! I think...I mean, Francine thinks Sue Ellen should be erased, because she's in Francine's body...but Sue Ellen doesn't want to be erased...she wants to be put back in her own body...oh, now you've got me talking about myself in the third person!"

Mavis sighed. "Just as I expected. Neither part of you wants to die. And, to be honest, I'm not sure if I can help you. To erase Francine from your brain, I'd have to erase everything, since your Francine memories go all the way back to when you were born. But erasing Sue Ellen is risky too, because your Francine memories may not have resurfaced completely."

"So what do I do?" Francine asked desperately.

"The two of you will just have to learn to get along," Mavis replied calmly.

"What?" Francine sputtered. "But...but..."

"It's not as hard as it sounds," Mavis went on. "You'll get used to it after a while. And it's better than being Sue Ellen alone in Francine's body, and never seeing your parents again."

Francine felt herself starting to choke with fear. She knew in her heart that Mavis was right, that there was no turning back, that she would have to learn to cope with being Francine and Sue Ellen simultaneously, that it was preferable to the alternatives...

Her mind was still reeling with confusion as she trudged down the sidewalk through the three inches of snow that had fallen the previous evening. Her backpack seemed lighter than before...perhaps because there were now two people carrying it. Inside her head, Francine and Sue Ellen were learning things about each other that they had never expected or wanted to know, and much of it was rather unpleasant. How they longed to be separated, but it wasn't possible...they had to coexist.

Sue Ellen could swear in five different languages. The most vulgar words imaginable. Francine had never dreamed this of her. On the other hand, Francine generally considered underwear to be optional, a fact which amused Sue Ellen to no end. Still, Francine had to admit, she found Sue Ellen's memories of her many travels to be much more entertaining than her own drab existence.

"Hola, Alberto," she said to Alberto Molina as he passed on the street. "Que pasa, amigo?"

"Estoy bien, Francine," Alberto replied, smiling. "Usted habla espanol? Yo no sabia."

Francine felt tempted to engage in a lengthy conversation with the older boy, but knew she could easily end up late for school.

The first person she talked to at Lakewood was Beat, who had returned to the school after an absence of almost two weeks. "Hey, Beat," she greeted the girl. "Have your memories come back yet?"

"No, still a blank," Beat answered as the two girls passed through the door into Mr. Wald's fourth-grade classroom. Arthur, Fern, George, Binky, Van, and Adil were seated at desks, while the teacher was sketching the details of the day's homework assignment on the blackboard.

Francine and Beat occupied two adjacent desks. "My memories are coming back," Francine related. "The device didn't work like it was supposed to. I woke up this morning with Francine in my head as well as Sue Ellen. So if I act really weird or confused today, you know why."

"An intriguing dilemma," Beat mused. "Two personalities inside your mind, vying for supremacy. What did Mavis say?"

"She said I'll just have to learn to live with myself," said Francine gloomily.

Beat grinned, reached over, and rubbed Francine's back. "Well, it's good to have you back, Frankie." Her overly friendly gesture made the Sue Ellen part of Francine's mind feel uneasy.

"Our lesson today is on cells," Mr. Wald announced as he drew an amorphous object on the board. "All living things are made up of cells. The center of a cell is called the nucleus..."

Francine spent most of the first period gazing at Arthur, who sat two desks ahead of her and didn't notice her attention. She despised herself for feeling the way she did, but she could do nothing about it, as she had inherited Sue Ellen's heart as well as her mind. "I can't believe how much she pined for him," she thought. "She was miserable. And now it's my turn...unless...oh, who am I kidding? Arthur's like a brother to me." She tried to distract herself by jotting down notes on Mr. Wald's lecture, but found it difficult to avoid mixing Francine's and Sue Ellen's handwriting styles, resulting in an unreadable scribble. On top of that, every picture of a cell she drew invariably featured an unmistakable pair of aardvark ears. On one occasion she was shocked to discover that she had absent-mindedly drawn a heart-shaped figure with Arthur's name inside.

Finally the bell rang, and Francine's torturous hour came to a close. As the kids filed out, Arthur and Francine found themselves facing each other in the doorway. "Hi, Francine," said Arthur glibly.

"Hello, Arthur." Warm, fuzzy butterflies filled Francine's stomach as she smiled wistfully and involuntarily. She recalled how hard it had been to overcome her crush on Beat. This would be infinitely worse. _If only this had happened to me during AGF III_, she thought bitterly.

She turned away from Arthur and walked hastily after Van, who was speeding toward the boy's room. "Hey, Van, got a minute?" she called out.

Van stopped and quickly turned his chair around. "Sure, Francine."

"Let's go where nobody can hear us," said Francine when she had walked up alongside him. The duck boy nodded knowingly, then steered his chair toward the rear exit of the school building.

They soon found a secluded corner against which a snowbank had been thrown. Van stopped his chair and looked up at Francine with an eager smile.

"Okay, Van," she said seriously. "It's time for your first test as an honorary girl and member of our sisterhood."

(To be continued...)


	10. The Wrath of Muffy

"I know this sounds weird," Francine said earnestly to Van. "It's like someone took Francine's brain and Sue Ellen's brain, mixed them up in a blender, and poured them into my head. I can hardly keep them separate. One minute I'm thinking like Francine, the next I'm thinking like Sue Ellen. And the worst part of it is, I have the same feelings for Arthur that Sue Ellen had. I'm in love with him, and I can't help it." 

Van took in Francine's words with astonishment and a bit of disbelief. "Okay," he said, nodding. "So why are you telling me this?"

"I just wanted to talk to someone I can trust," Francine went on. "I know I can count on you to keep my secrets. That's why I voted to admit you into the sisterhood."

Van turned his eyes away from Francine. "I don't know why you're asking me for help. I don't know anything about love or romance. You need Muffy. She's the one with all the romantic advice."

"I don't want romantic advice!" exclaimed the exasperated Francine. "I just want these feelings to go away. I want to be Arthur's friend, and nothing more. Unless..." Her voice became wistful. "Unless there's a way to get him to love me again, like he did before the accident..." Her lips spread into a dreamy grin, which turned into a scowl when she caught herself.

Van turned his chair and began to slowly roll away. "I'll try to think of some way to help you, Francine. And I won't share your secret with the boys. I give you my word as a sister."

"Thanks, Van." Francine waved after him and smiled.

As Van made his way back to Mr. Wald's classroom, Binky and George came up alongside him. "Hey, Van," Binky said to him, "I saw you talking with Francine outside."

"Uh-huh." Van nodded indifferently.

George flashed him a wicked grin. "Did she, like, tell you any girl secrets?"

Van adopted an arrogant tone. "Wouldn't you like to know."

"Oh, come on, Van," Binky pressured him. "You're not one of them. You're one of us. Now what did she tell you?"

"I gave my word as a sister not to reveal it," said Van haughtily.

Binky and George groaned in unison. "Fine," said George in an annoyed voice. "If you want to be a girl, be a girl. But I get to call you Vanna."

"Hey Vanna, how about a date?" Binky joked.

"You guys can make fun of me all you want," Van shot back, "but it won't change the fact that I know Francine's secret, and you don't. So nyaaah."

As Van followed them into the classroom, Binky and George debated between themselves on the nature of Francine's mysterious secret. "I bet she's in love with somebody," George postulated. "And I bet it's not me."

"Keep an eye on her," Binky half-whispered. "If she looks at one boy all the time, that must be him."

However, Francine had prepared for such a stratagem on the part of the boys, and spent most of the second period staring at the notebook on her desk.

By the time lunch hour arrived, the boys in Mr. Wald's class, as well as many others, had all been made aware that Francine had a crush on someone, and Van was the only boy who knew who it was.

"Remember the last time Francine had crushes?" Alan said to Arthur as Van rolled by and listened in. "When she painted her nails and put on a dress?"

"Yeah, that was crazy." Arthur chuckled. "Then we found out she really had a crush on Beat all along."

Alan's tone became worried. "Gosh, do you suppose she actually likes a boy this time?"

Arthur shrugged. "I don't know. But it's not one of us, so why worry about it?"

In another part of the city, Muffy and Mavis had seated themselves in the Uppity Downs lunchroom, and taken utensils in hand to carve up their veal cutlets.

"I haven't understood a thing all day," Muffy lamented. "I was failing before, and now I've missed three weeks. It's hopeless, Mavis. I wish my dad could understand that."

"Don't give up, Muffy," Mavis tried to console her. "Mr. Putnam was working on an experimental method of education before he died. Maybe it would help you."

"I'm ready to try anything," said Muffy with determination. "I don't want to be stuck in fourth grade until I have grand-nieces."

"That's the spirit." Mavis smiled and gave Muffy a thumbs-up.

As Muffy raised a slice of veal to her mouth, her cell phone chimed. "Excuse me, Mavis." She laid down the fork and snatched up her phone. "Hello?"

"Muffy, it's Van." Miles away in Lakewood Elementary, Van was making a call on the courtesy phone next to the principal's office.

Anger welled up in Muffy's heart. She felt an urge to yell into the phone, and let Van know what she thought of him, but no...it would be too undignified. If she exacted her revenge in an orderly manner, then Van would suffer while she came off smelling like a proverbial rose.

Muffy jumped up from the table, leaving her lunch behind, and hurried toward the cafeteria exit. "Francine talked to me this morning," Van said to her over the phone. "She told me she's in love with Arthur. I don't know if she wants me to help her stop being in love with him, or help get him to love her back. What do you think?"

"Hold that thought," Muffy replied. She found a corner in the hallway where nobody could hear her, then continued. "This is really a surprise, Van. I always thought Francine and Arthur were just friends."

"So did I," came Van's voice. "What should I do, Muffy? I don't know what advice to give her. That's why I called you."

Muffy thought for a few seconds, trying to formulate a scheme that would help Francine while at the same time embarrassing Van.

"Muffy? Are you still there?"

Muffy's face lit up. "I've got it! Here's a surefire way to find out if Arthur returns Francine's feelings. Okay, Van, here's what you do..."

----

"I'd like all of you to choose a U.S. president and write a three-page report about his life," Mr. Wald informed his students. "Or, if you want, you can choose a first lady and write a report about her life. The report is due a week from today."

The bell rang to signal the end of the school day. Francine rose quickly from her desk and hurried through the door, with Van following closely behind. The other kids began to file slowly from the room, forming groups in the process.

Arthur, Adil, Beat, and George approached Fern. "Hey, Fern, we're going to the Sugar Bowl," Arthur informed her. "Want to join us?"

Fern shook her head. "Sorry, I can't. I'm going to an audition."

"An addition to what?" asked the confused Adil.

"_Au_-dition," Arthur corrected him. "It's where you try out for a part in a show."

"What are you trying out for, Fern?" Beat asked.

"It's, uh, a play." Fern smiled as if relieved. "Yeah, a play."

"Which play?" George inquired.

"I don't know yet. It's a surprise." Fern waved goodbye and quickly turned, her ears flapping about.

As she rushed out of the classroom, Arthur turned to George. "That's weird," he remarked. "Why would they hold an audition, and not tell you which play it's going to be?"

"Maybe it's a murder mystery," George answered. "And if they told us the name of the play, we'd read it and find out whodunit, and spoil the suspense."

"Maybe it's _The Real Inspector Hound_," Beat suggested. "She'd be perfect for that one."

The four Sugar Bowl-bound kids exited the classroom and soon encountered Binky, who was nervously glancing around the center court. "Sugar Bowl, Binky?" Arthur invited.

"Uh, sorry, I've got to be somewhere," Binky replied evasively. He appeared to be looking for a way to escape from the school building without being seen.

"I guess it's just the four of us, then," observed Beat as she, Arthur, Adil, and George meandered toward the front exit. "I wonder where Francine's gotten to."

"She's probably with her boyfriend," George mused.

"When did she get a boyfriend?" asked Beat. "Or is that something else I've forgotten?"

"I think it's just a rumor," said Arthur as he pushed open the glass door leading to the outside world. At the bottom of the stairway, Van waited on the curb for his sisters to arrive in the Coopers' old Buick, as he usually did. On this occasion, however, someone was with him...

Arthur and Beat froze to the spot and became breathless. George's eyes bulged. Not one of them could believe what their eyes were witnessing.

Francine was hunched over Van's wheelchair, her arms flung over his shoulders, her backpack almost ready to fall off to one side.

She was kissing him. Passionately. On the lips.

"Francine!" cried Arthur and Beat in horror. They leaped down the staircase toward her, as she turned her face away from Van's moistened beak.

Arthur was the first to reach her. "Get away from him!" he barked, grabbing Francine by the shoulder and yanking her upright.

"What's the matter, Arthur?" asked Francine as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Arthur, suddenly embarrassed by his outburst, stepped backwards and began to stammer helplessly. "Francine...I...I..."

Then Beat confronted Francine indignantly. "What are you doing?" she demanded. "You can't kiss Van. He's an honorary girl and member of the sisterhood."

Francine made a pleading face. "B-but I love him..."

"You can't!" exclaimed Arthur angrily.

"Why can't I?" Francine took a bold step toward Arthur. "Van is sweet, kind, thoughtful, and drop-dead handsome. He's been sending me cards ever since we met. You only send me cards on Valentine's Day."

"But...but..." Arthur blushed with shame.

Francine narrowed her eyes at him. "Why, Arthur Read, I do believe you're jealous."

It was a waking nightmare. Arthur felt as if he had walked into the classroom in his underwear, with the name Francine tattooed on his kneecaps--and on the day that the "Magic Toolbox" crew had come to film a segment featuring the entire class. "Um...uh...I need to go," he sputtered, then turned and fled down the sidewalk.

Beat watched him go, then turned to face Van. "You know you'll be kicked out of the sisterhood," she admonished him. "You can't be romantically involved with another sister."

"It's okay, Beat," said Van nonchalantly. "Francine and I aren't really in love. We just wanted to see if we could make Arthur jealous. It was Muffy's idea."

Beat folded her arms. "Well, you made him jealous, all right. But you've also created a scandal. This will not reflect well on the sisterhood, Van. If I were you, I'd resign now and avoid a lot of headaches."

As she turned and walked away in a huff, Van groaned. "Don't worry, Van," Francine said encouragingly. "I'm sure Muffy and I can convince the sisterhood that this was just a harmless little joke."

"Well, at least it worked," Van observed.

"Yes." Francine smiled ecstatically. "He really does care. I must go to him, Van."

(To be continued...)


	11. The Audition

"Now have a seat, and we'll call your name," said the pleasant rabbit woman. Fern took a chair in a room where about a dozen other children were sitting, all of them having pieces of sheet music in their possession. Some sat quietly and thoughtfully, while others obsessively scanned their music as if still memorizing it.  
  
Fern left her music ("They Can't Take That Away From Me" by Gershwin) lying in her lap; she had performed the song many times, and knew it by heart. She glanced around at the other children, a few of whom appeared nervous and even sweating. Only a year earlier she would have been paralyzed with fear, but Mr. Baker's drama coaching and Mrs. Stiles' poetry assistance had built her confidence to the point that she felt only a few shivers of anxiety.  
  
Next to Fern sat a poodle boy who appeared to be about eight years old. He wore thick prescription glasses and a green sweater, and was holding Copland's arrangement of "The Boatmen's Dance" in his sweaty palms. After looking at Fern for a few seconds, he suddenly gasped. "Oh...omigosh..."  
  
"What?" said Fern to the strange boy.  
  
He pointed a quivering finger at her. "You...you're the girl who sang at the Wynton Marsalis concert!" He smiled excitedly. "You're fantastic!"  
  
A blond cat girl sitting across from Fern groaned. "Oh, man. We may as well all go home now."  
  
"Why?" Fern asked naively.  
  
"You're better than all of us put together," the girl replied. Over her short skirt lay a copy of a recent hit song by Christina Doggilera.  
  
"She's not better than me," came a haughty voice. A ten-year-old aardvark girl with braided orange hair and an exquisite sequined gown was staring directly at Fern. "Sure, you got lucky when Wynton Marsalis showed up late, but luck is no substitute for real talent, which I have in abundance. If I'd been there instead of you, the audience would have booed Wynton off the stage and asked me to do an encore." She then looked down at the piece of sheet music she held, which contained a Puccini aria.  
  
"You've got some attitude," the cat girl snapped at the wealthy-looking aardvark girl. "Just who do you think you are?"  
  
"I'm the obnoxious rich brat who everybody wants to lose," the aardvark girl replied. "There's one in every contest."  
  
A moment later, a uniformed monkey man stuck his head and torso through the door that the rabbit woman had used to leave the room. "Kimberly Reznicek," he called out. The cat girl slowly rose to her feet, clutched her music, and followed the man out of the room.  
  
The remaining kids fell silent for about half a minute, and then the poodle boy introduced himself to Fern. "My name's Wyatt. Wyatt Holberg."  
  
Fern flashed him a shy smile. "I'm Fern Walters. Nice to meet you."  
  
"I'm surprised you're trying out for this part," said Wyatt quietly. "You could be the next Diana Krill if you wanted to."  
  
"I don't think I'm that good yet," said Fern in a humble tone.  
  
"Seriously," Wyatt insisted, "I think the role of Mini Moo is a little beneath someone with your talent."  
  
"I'm only here because Jean Stiles invited me," Fern informed him. "She was my teacher once. If anyone's overqualified to play a singing cow, it's her."  
  
----  
  
While Fern waited breathlessly for her shot at fame and fortune, the Coopers went about their usual business, unaware that fame and fortune were about to make an unwelcome, forced entry into their home.  
  
In her bedroom, Odette was rehearsing her ballet moves, which she hadn't used much since the kidnapping, to the strains of Delibes' "Coppelia". Her gossamer skirt bounced and swayed as she executed one flawless grand jete after another. In the living room, Van and Logan battled each other in a new video game, "Bunny League: Webmaster's Revenge". They played Bunny League members who had been digitized and transported into a computer network, where they struggled against waves of cybernetic monsters generated by the evil Webmaster. Dallin sat next to them, his attention absorbed by a coloring book, while Mrs. Cooper labored at the sewing machine, mending a pair of Logan's jeans. Quinn sat in the study, poring over her pre-calculus homework to make sure her answers were correct. Baby Megan waddled about at her feet, occasionally falling face-first and leaving a saliva mark on the carpet.  
  
The front door swung open, and Mel Cooper strolled inside, wearing a brown suit and clutching the handle of his briefcase. "Welcome home, dear," his wife greeted him from the sewing machine.  
  
Mr. Cooper wore an expression of surprise. "Valerie," he asked, "why is there a news van in front of our house?"  
  
Intrigued by his question, Quinn, Dallin, and Mrs. Cooper left their work and hurried to the still-open door. As he had said, a white van with an antenna dish on the top was parked at their curb. On the side of the vehicle was painted the call sign of Elwood City's premier news station, WOOD-TV. It was the first time they had been visited by reporters since the aftermath of Odette's safe return, and it filled them with eager anticipation.  
  
"What are they here for, Dad?" Dallin inquired innocently. "Are they gonna ask Odette questions and show her crying on TV?"  
  
"I hope they're not making another TV-movie," Quinn muttered.  
  
"I'm not sure why they're here," Mr. Cooper answered. "But I suppose it has something to do with..." As he spoke, a black stretch limousine pulled to the side of the street immediately behind the news van. He grimaced with distaste. "Oh, no..."  
  
Odette, Van, and Logan took up positions behind their parents and older sister while Mr. Cooper watched two camera-wielding TV reporters chatting on the sidewalk with Ed and Muffy Crosswire, who had arrived in the limousine. "What's going on?" asked Van impatiently. "I can't see."  
  
"Do your best to act friendly, children," Mrs. Cooper commanded her brood. "Here they come."  
  
Mel Cooper knew exactly why Mr. Crosswire had decided to annoy them with the courtesy of a visit, but he had no desire to make anyone look bad on TV. He forced a smile and stretched out his hand to the approaching used-car dealer. "Well, if it isn't my good friend, Ed Crosswire," he said insincerely.  
  
Mr. Crosswire shook his hand vigorously as the two reporters trained their shoulder-mounted cameras on the men. Muffy bounded over to their side, turned to face the camera, smiled ingratiatingly, and waved. Her cell phone suddenly rang; she ignored it, and hoped that the TV studio would be able to edit the offending noise.  
  
The crowd at the front door, which included the Coopers and their children Quinn, Logan, Van, Odette, and Dallin, dispersed to allow the Crosswires and their entourage to pass. "To what do we owe this pleasure, Ed?" asked Mrs. Cooper.  
  
Mr. Crosswire bent down and rubbed his palm over the top of Dallin's head. "You didn't think I'd forget, did you?" he said warmly. "It was your son who helped the police to bring Muffy home." He patted Van's head with his other hand. "And no good deed performed on behalf of a Crosswire goes unrewarded."  
  
Mr. Cooper waved his hands dismissively at him. "I can't possibly accept your money, Ed."  
  
No sooner had he said that, when he found that everybody else in the house, with the possible exception of the baby, was gaping at him in shock.  
  
Muffy watched the proceedings carefully. As she expected, the Cooper children began to express reservations about their father's rejection of the reward money.  
  
"But, Dad, you could send us all to college with that money!" Van protested.  
  
"We could buy a really big house with a bedroom for every one of us," Dallin suggested.  
  
"We could get, like, a really cool game system," Logan mused.  
  
"Dad, not all of us will get full-ride scholarships," Quinn pointed out.  
  
"What if Van needs expensive surgery someday?" Odette contributed.  
  
"Think about this carefully, dear," Mrs. Cooper urged her husband.  
  
It appeared to Mr. Cooper as if his entire family had started to mutiny against him. He gestured toward Ed Crosswire. "I'd like to talk to you in private."  
  
Curious, Mr. Crosswire followed the lawyer as he marched determinedly into the study, his wife and children still shouting after him with suggestions on how to spend the lavish reward.  
  
Once he made sure that nobody had followed, Mr. Cooper shot an indignant look at Mr. Crosswire. "Send the reporters away," he said coldly and firmly. "I won't let you use my home to film a Crosswire Motors promotional spot."  
  
Mr. Crosswire smiled and shrugged. "Is that what you think this is? Come on, Mel. This isn't about me. It's about you, and your son."  
  
"Don't take me for a fool," Mr. Cooper growled. "This is about you handing me a big fat check while the entire viewing audience of Elwood City watches and learns what a kind, giving man Ed Crosswire is." He fought to calm his voice down. "You don't owe us anything. Your daughter helped us get Odette back. So let's call ourselves even, and be done with the whole matter."  
  
The ends of Mr. Crosswire's smile drooped slightly; his patience was obviously wearing thin. "I know you don't trust me, Mel. And I know that you know that I don't care whether you trust me. But you've earned this reward fair and square, and I want you to have it. It's not like you're selling me your soul, Mel."  
  
Mr. Cooper's eyes seemed to flash fire. "Maybe I didn't make myself clear enough," he muttered threateningly. "When I said I couldn't accept your money, what I meant to say was, you can take your reward, and you can stick it up your..."  
  
(To be continued...) 


	12. Van Must Decide

Mrs. Cooper, holding baby Megan in her arms, watched silently as her husband exchanged harsh murmurs with Mr. Crosswire in the study. She dared not interrupt the two men. Neither did any of the other Cooper family members, or Muffy, or the two cameramen. Minutes passed. Finally the two stopped scowling at each other, and a few seconds later, they actually shook hands.  
  
Quinn, Logan, Van, Dallin, Odette, and their mother felt a wave of relief pass over them. Had an agreement finally been reached? They stood motionless as Mr. Crosswire and Mr. Cooper strolled out of the study and into the living room.  
  
Mr. Cooper cleared his throat. "Believe it or not, Ed Crosswire said something reasonable," he announced. His children gasped in unison. Visions of large houses, spacious bedrooms, backyard swimming pools, and college diplomas danced in their heads. He motioned toward Van. "Since Van was responsible for bringing Muffy safely home, he will decide whether or not to accept the reward money."  
  
Van's mother and siblings all turned to face him in astonishment. Fear seized his heart. Rivulets of sweat began to form on his brow. He hated to sweat--the sweat always pooled on his beak, and had been known to run up his nose when he opened his mouth too wide.  
  
"Me?" he thought frantically. "I get to decide? A quarter of a million dollars? How can I say no? I'm just a kid!"  
  
The stares of his family members felt like a thousand sunlamps. "I know you won't disappoint me, son," his father said, but it sounded more like an order than an expression of confidence.  
  
"What would my dad want?" Van pondered anxiously and silently. "What would Muffy want?"  
  
"Take the money, Van," Odette urged him. "Take it. Say yes."  
  
"Dude, it's a lot of money," Logan remarked.  
  
"Um...uh..." Van stammered. The two cameramen took direct aim at his face, and it seemed for a moment that everyone in the universe was watching him, and that they would live or die depending on what he chose to do.  
  
"Give the boy a break," said Mr. Crosswire as he waved the cameras away. "He doesn't have to decide right away. I'll give him a few days to think about it."  
  
Van sighed with elation while his brothers and sisters groaned.  
  
"You earned it, Van," Quinn pressured him. "No one will think less of you for accepting the money."  
  
"That's what you think," said Muffy to herself as she gazed raptly at the nervous duck boy. If Van took the money--and how could he not--then it would confirm what she suspected about him, and her just wrath would be pulled down upon his head...  
  
"Uh, I'm not sure," Van finally spoke. "It is a lot of money, but we've gotten along fine before, and...oh, I can't make up my mind!"  
  
"Take your time, Van," said Mr. Crosswire comfortingly. "Take your time. I'll come back tomorrow." He put a hand on Muffy's shoulder and began to lead her toward the front door, the two cameramen following.  
  
As she looked over her shoulder at the perplexed Van, Muffy suddenly considered the possibility that she had misjudged the boy. Was there any chance he might decide not to accept the reward? Or was he simply trying to avoid the appearance of ambition, like Caesar turning down the crown?  
  
----  
  
"Hey ho, the boatmen row, floating down the river, the Ohio..."  
  
By holding up her ear and pressing it to the wall, Fern was able to make out Wyatt Holberg's golden voice as he belted out an old folk song. He was good--very good--and a nice boy, too. Not like the aardvark girl who had done nothing but belittle her competitors until she was called in. To be fair, her rendition of "Un bel di" from "Madame Butterfly" had been untouchable, but how many kids would tune in to watch an opera-singing cow?  
  
The door opened, and the monkey man stuck out his head again. "Fern Walters."  
  
Fern leaped to her feet, leaving behind the children who had come in after her as she followed the man into the audition room, clutching her musical score.  
  
It was a small room with bare walls. An upright piano sat in the center, and a young, dark-haired rat woman was seated in front of it. She smiled at Fern and wiggled her head, signaling for the girl to come closer.  
  
Fern dodged several music stands as she walked up to the piano and handed her sheet music to the woman. She took a brief glance at it, then laid it on the top of the piano, saying, "I know it." Then, without hesitation or warning, she laid her fingers on the ivories and started to play the familiar tune.  
  
Fern didn't miss a beat. "The way you wear your hat...the way you sip your tea...the memory of all that...no, they can't take that away from me..."  
  
When she reached the end of the song, the rat woman seemed on the verge of tears. She gazed at Fern with amazement and took a deep breath. "You are incredible! The richness of your voice...the maturity... How old are you?"  
  
"I'm nine," Fern replied.  
  
The rat woman made a fist and thumped on Fern's chest. "What do you have in there, an acoustic chamber? A diva like you shouldn't be wasting her time working on a kid's show."  
  
"I'm still in elementary school," Fern pointed out. "What else can I do? I can't pursue a professional singing career yet. And there are other things I like to do, like acting."  
  
"You'll get plenty of chances to sing and act on this show," said the rat woman. "The dancing is left to someone else. You won't actually wear the Mini Moo costume. You'll just provide the voice."  
  
Fern shrugged. "Whatever." She didn't feel terribly disappointed, as she had entered the audition as a favor to Mrs. Stiles, and hadn't really expected to win.  
  
Fifteen minutes later, Fern was standing in another waiting room with all of the children who had auditioned. They chatted excitedly with each other, impatiently expecting the announcement of who would be the voice of Mini Moo.  
  
Fern had just handed a slip of paper with her phone number to Wyatt Holberg when she noticed that the snobbish aardvark girl was approaching her with a smirk on her face. Turning to the girl, she said, "I never did get your name."  
  
"Michaela Chanel," came the reply. "I go by Mickie. Mickie Chanel. Remember that name, because someday you'll see it in lights."  
  
"I don't doubt it," said Fern, trying her best to be friendly with the arrogant girl. "I listened to you through the wall. You're really good."  
  
"I'm the best," said Mickie matter-of-factly.  
  
"Maybe so." Fern felt her patience waning. "Maybe you can sing circles around the rest of us, but that doesn't mean you're a better person."  
  
"Of course not." Mickie seemed to take the rebuke in stride. "I mean, look at all of you. You could have walked out of here sulking, but instead you've decided to stick around and share in my victory. I could never be that selfless."  
  
Before Fern had a chance to turn away from Mickie in disgust, a door opened and the same monkey man appeared. The eyes of all the kids turned to him. The room became utterly silent.  
  
"We have a winner," he announced. "Fern Walters, will you please come with me?"  
  
Groans filled the room. Several of the kids clapped and cheered as they thronged the astounded Fern. She couldn't believe it...she hadn't set out to win, but she had nonetheless...  
  
Overwhelmed by her triumph, she had to be pushed by her friends toward the door where the monkey man stood. "Good job, Fern," she heard Wyatt mutter in her ear.  
  
As she started to follow the man into the corridor, she looked back over her shoulder at Mickie, who wore a miserable scowl. "Hey, Mickie!" she called out. "I'll see you at the Met."  
  
"Here's where you meet the other stars of the show," the monkey man told Fern as he led her into a small dressing room. An oval-shaped full-length stood at one end of the room, with a wardrobe on one side and a bureau dresser on the other. In one corner lay the segments of a bulky, black-and-white cow costume, the head resting next to the remainder of the body. And in the middle of the dressing room, a woman in a gray sweatsuit stood with her back turned to Fern and her guide.  
  
She turned around, revealing a polar bear-like face and an expression of pure delight. Fern gasped in disbelief.  
  
"Mrs. Stiles!" she cried out. "It IS you!"  
  
The woman stuck a finger over her mouth. "Not so loud. I don't want the whole city to know it."  
  
Overjoyed, Fern threw her arms around her former teacher's waist. "I'm so glad it's you," she gushed. "I was afraid it would be some strange lady."  
  
"Or even worse, a strange man," Mrs. Stiles responded.  
  
"Nooo," said Fern incredulously. "Mary Moo Cow can't be a man."  
  
The door to the dressing room suddenly opened, and an unusual creature wandered in. Fern turned away from Mrs. Stiles. She almost burst out laughing when she beheld the clownish aspect of what she assumed to be the costume of Mini Moo. For the most part it resembled a smaller version of Mary Moo Cow, but the facial features were more exaggerated. It had huge, soulful eyes, an inflated black nose, and a pair of oversized buck teeth. Over its eyes hung two spider-like plastic eyelashes, which appeared as if they could be detached if it were necessary to make Mini Moo look like a boy instead of a girl.  
  
"Fern, I'd like you to meet Mini Moo," Mrs. Stiles announced. "We found a boy to fill the costume last week. He's an excellent dancer. I believe he's someone you know."  
  
The boy in the Mini Moo suit pirouetted about gleefully for a few seconds, then did a somersault and came up directly in front of the amused Fern. Then he released a zipper on his neck and started to remove the cow head.  
  
Fern's jaw dropped halfway to the floor. Nothing had prepared her for this...  
  
(To be continued...) 


	13. The Purge

"The art of war is of vital importance to the State."  
  
The first time Francine had opened up the book, she hadn't made it past the first sentence. Now she was picking it up for the second time, and she knew it backwards and forwards, and understood its principles perfectly, before she had even turned Page 1. It was weird, but exhilarating. Earlier in the day she had been stunned and bewildered by the presence of two sets of memories in her brain. Now it was fast becoming a thrilling adventure, as the Francine and Sue Ellen facets of her personality raced breathlessly to discover each other's secrets and insights. She expected that by the next morning, she would feel like one person again. But which person? She didn't really care.  
  
As she sat on her bed, grounded, her nose sunk deeply into Sun Tzu's ancient text, her heart started to ache again for her missing parents, the Armstrongs. She couldn't decide whether she preferred them over the Frenskys, who were equally her parents, but such comparisons were futile, as the Armstrongs were gone forever.  
  
She pondered what Sue Ellen might be going through. How was she reacting to the merger of her own personality with Francine's? How could Francine's memories possibly benefit her, given the type of life she led--a life of intrigue, cosmopolitanism, and rootlessness?  
  
As she mused on the peculiar situation of the past two weeks, she heard the door to her apartment open. A second later, an aardvark face with glasses was peering at her from behind the bedroom door.  
  
It was Arthur...the boy she loved...he had come...  
  
Francine's heart pitterpattered. A small part of her insisted that it was strange and wrong, but the quality time she had spent with Sue Ellen's consciousness had mostly convinced her that being in love with Arthur wasn't entirely unreasonable.  
  
"Uh, hi, Francine," said Arthur bashfully. "Um, about that, you know, I can explain..." He fidgeted anxiously with his glasses.  
  
Francine motioned toward the empty space on the bed next to her. Arthur hesitantly came out from behind the bedroom door, and slowly sat down next to her, as if afraid that she would magically read all his embarrassing thoughts the moment his rear end made contact with the bedsheet.  
  
"Well?" said Francine, smiling giddily. "Explain."  
  
Arthur didn't turn to look at her, but began to wring his hands. "You must think I'm jealous," he said quietly. "But I'm not. Not really. If you want Van for your boyfriend, it's okay with me."  
  
His words didn't ring true in Francine's mind at all. She was tempted to inform him about Muffy's scheme and the fact that she and Van were not truly an item, but she thought of a way to skirt the issue.  
  
"Van's really nice," she said, gazing into the air. "I like being with him. I like kissing him. I know he's handicapped and all, but he can still do everything other people can do, as long as walking's not involved." She glanced over at Arthur, who had become visibly uneasy. She grinned nefariously. "Are you sure you're not jealous?"  
  
"I'm not jealous!" Arthur suddenly snapped at her. Francine continued to grin, as if she didn't believe him in the slightest. "Okay," Arthur went on, lowering his eyes, "maybe I'm a little jealous."  
  
"You totally freaked when you saw me kissing Van," Francine ribbed him. "I think you're more than a little jealous."  
  
Arthur thought for a second, then started to nod weakly. "Okay, Francine, you got me. I was more than a little jealous. I was a lot jealous."  
  
Francine's success emboldened her to take the next step. "Arthur, are you in love with me?" she asked in a sickeningly sweet tone.  
  
Arthur felt the air being sucked from his lungs. He struggled for breath. He had been a passenger on a jet plane more than once, and each time had pictured in his mind what a "loss of cabin pressure" might entail. This was it...but there were no oxygen masks...no emergency exits...  
  
Francine slapped him repeatedly on the back. "Breathe, Arthur! Breathe!"  
  
After a few seconds Arthur regained his composure. He still looked away from Francine, as if the sight of her face would not only empty his lungs again, but his stomach as well. "No," he muttered, "I'm not in love with you."  
  
They sat in silence for about half a minute, and then Arthur worked up the courage to look Francine in the face again. "It's just that..." he began. "We've been friends for so long...I always figured we would grow up together, and someday we would fall in love and get married, and have kids and stuff. I...I thought you would never like another boy."  
  
"Well, that's because I never liked any other boys," Francine rejoined. "Uh, I mean, until now. Until Van."  
  
"I thought Van was part of that sisterhood thing of yours," said Arthur. "Why did you let him join if you were in love with him?"  
  
It was the question Francine had hoped Arthur wouldn't ask. She had no choice now...  
  
"Okay, I confess." Emotion filled Francine's voice. "That kiss with Van didn't mean anything. I just wanted to see if I could make you jealous. It was Muffy's suggestion. I'm not really in love with Van."  
  
Arthur was startled by her admission. "Why did you want to make me jealous?" was his next question.  
  
Francine turned her eyes away from him. "I...wanted to know if you had feelings for me. I guess you don't." A tear rolled down her left cheek. "I guess to you I'm just a girl who you might fall in love with someday."  
  
Arther gazed at her speechlessly. She reached up and wiped the tears from her cheeks. Having done so, she then placed her hands squarely on Arthur's shoulders. He winced when he felt the tear-moistened fingers rubbing against his sweater.  
  
"For me, someday was a long time ago," Francine said plaintively. "I love you, Arthur. I always have. Even when I told you I didn't love you, I loved you."  
  
A horrible realization dawned upon Arthur. He was about to lose his lunch all over a girl who had just proclaimed her love for him...  
  
"Bathroom!" he blurted out. Francine almost fell over on her face when Arthur leaped from her bed and bolted from the room.  
  
The lovesick girl pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her eyes. She heard unpleasant noises issuing from the bathroom. Maybe, she thought, they could make some progress after he had purged himself.  
  
(To be continued...) 


	14. Let's Make a Deal

To the right of the intricately carved pine doors stood a small metal post, and on the top of the post sat a box-shaped mechanism with a round plastic button in the front. Van reached out and pushed the button, and to his surprise, a gradually slanted ramp began to emerge from underneath the door to the right. It was the handicapped access to the Crosswire mansion; Muffy had asked for it to be installed just before she had run away with Angela. She had even included an inside joke--a small bronze plaque attached to the wall next to the doors, featuring the words VAN ACCESSIBLE.  
  
Van effortlessly drove his wheelchair up the ramp, his mother close behind. She didn't especially enjoy visiting the Crosswire house, as extravagant displays of wealth intimidated and offended her; however, Van had insisted on paying Ed a visit, ostensibly to discuss the reward and perhaps reach a decision.  
  
Muffy was the first to greet them as they entered the palacial living room. She had let down her hair, and was wearing a jump suit that matched it for color. From the earnest look on her face, she had somber news to impart to Van.  
  
"Oh, Van, it's terrible!" she lamented.  
  
"What is?" Van asked her.  
  
Muffy leaned on the armrests of Van's wheelchair, and spoke with a hint of craftiness. "All the girls except for Francine have called me," she informed the duck boy. "They heard about the kiss, and they think you should leave the sisterhood. I tried to explain that it was just a scheme, but they didn't care."  
  
Van lowered his beak in disappointment. Mrs. Cooper gazed at the two children and wondered what sort of intrigue was taking place between them.  
  
"If that's the way they feel," said Van with a resigned tone, "then I guess I have no choice."  
  
"I feel so bad about this, Van," said Muffy mournfully. "I never should have suggested it. It's my fault. I'm sorry."  
  
"Maybe I'm just not cut out to be an honorary girl," Van reflected.  
  
"Don't say that," Muffy reassured him. "You're still a very sweet boy. In fact, I know some girls who could learn a thing or two from you. Not many, but a few."  
  
Muffy's buttering up of Van was interrupted by the arrival of Mr. Crosswire in the living room. He still wore the disarming green sweater that was his usual attire at the car lot. "Mrs. Cooper," he uttered. "How kind of you to visit."  
  
"Van insisted on talking to you," the duck woman replied. "I guess it's about the reward."  
  
"I'd like to talk in private," said Van, "if it's all right, sir."  
  
"By all means," Mr. Crosswire responded.  
  
As he led Van toward the "war room", or study, Muffy gazed after them with a devious smile. "If you accept the reward," she thought bitterly, "you are soooo dead."  
  
Once inside the study, Mr. Crosswire closed the door, seated himself in an office chair, and faced Van seriously. "So...what do you want to talk about?" he asked casually.  
  
Van took a deep, anxious breath. "It's about the reward," he told the man. "A quarter of a million dollars is a lot of money."  
  
"Not to me," Mr. Crosswire responded. "I routinely spend that much and more on promotional spots."  
  
Van swallowed. He began to fear that he was hopelessly out of his league, and wouldn't even make it to first base. Summoning courage, he went on.  
  
"My dad has a lot of pride," he said with a mature tone. "He doesn't want to depend on anyone but himself. And he sure as heck doesn't want to depend on you, because he hates your guts."  
  
"So I've noticed," said Mr. Crosswire, calmly drumming his fingers together.  
  
"We could do a lot with that money," Van continued. "But I don't want to make my dad unhappy."  
  
"So what do you suggest?"  
  
Nervous, Van struggled to maintain eye contact. He had learned somewhere that eye contact was an essential part of negotiation. Of course, Mr. Crosswire, having been a car salesman at one time, would certainly know that as well.  
  
"I don't want the money," Van stated. "But there is something you can do for me in place of giving me the money."  
  
Mr. Crosswire leaned closer to the boy. "And that is...?"  
  
"Let Muffy go back to Lakewood Elementary."  
  
Van suddenly felt as if a million miles separated him from Mr. Crosswire, who was now a planetary body.  
  
The used-car dealer scowled and shook his head. "No, Van, I'm afraid I can't do that. The money means nothing to me, but my daughter's education means everything."  
  
"She's not doing well at Uppity Downs," Van pointed out. "You know that."  
  
"She may repeat a grade or two," said Mr. Crosswire coldly, "but in the long term she'll be better off. Now let's get back to the reward."  
  
Van's heart plummeted. His gambit had failed. He was back where he started, burdened with the responsibility of taking the money or leaving it.  
  
Then an idea struck him. Perhaps he was going about this the wrong way...  
  
His lips spread into a grin. "Okay, Mr. Crosswire," he said in a silky voice, "I've got another deal for your consideration."  
  
(To be continued...) 


	15. Ducks in a Row

The sideline read, COOPERS TO ACCEPT CROSSWIRE REWARD.  
  
Muffy fumed as she clutched the front section of the morning newspaper, which Mavis had handed her. "And on live TV, no less," she muttered angrily. "That little rat."  
  
As Mavis walked alongside Muffy through the corridor at Uppity Downs, she tried to console the bitter girl over her friend's apparent betrayal of trust. "It's not the end of the world, Muffy," she said encouragingly. "You'll meet another boy. A better boy."  
  
"There are no better boys," Muffy groused. "They're all scum."  
  
"Not all of them."  
  
"Trust me on this one, Mavis," Muffy shot back. "I've known lots of boys. Big boys, little boys, fat boys, skinny boys. Van was the kindest and sweetest of them all, and now I find out that he's a snake like all the rest."  
  
"I know a thing or two about boys myself," said Mavis with an unassuming tone.  
  
"Well, I know everything about boys," Muffy boasted. "The only way you can know more about boys than me is if you've actually been a boy."  
  
Mavis didn't answer, but only smirked. The two girls strolled into Mr. Pryce-Jones' classroom and took seats next to each other, and Muffy continued to lament her fate.  
  
"I was crazy to run away," she reflected. "What made me think I could change my dad's mind? Now I'm in even worse shape." She smiled at Mavis. "Well...at least I've still got you."  
  
Mavis' expression became somber. "I haven't told you this, Muffy, but..." She took a breath. "I'm thinking of changing schools myself."  
  
Muffy gaped with surprise. "Wh-what?"  
  
"I think it would be fun to go to Lakewood," Mavis mused. "Your friends there are really cool. And Binky's kinda cute, even if he is a doofus."  
  
"What's come over you, Mavis?" Muffy marveled. "You're using words like 'fun' and 'cool' and 'doofus'. And Lakewood is too slow for a genius like you."  
  
"Perhaps so," Mavis replied. "But I've been thinking lately...maybe I'd be happier if I went back to being just a normal little girl."  
  
"What do you mean, 'went back'?" asked Muffy.  
  
Mavis opened her mouth to answer, but Mr. Pryce-Jones tapped his stick on the top of his desk to bring the class to order. "All stand and recite the Pledge of Allegiance," he announced, turning to face the American flag hanging in a corner of the room.  
  
----  
  
It was a sunny day. The sidewalks were drenched in melted snow as the children congregated on Lakewood Elementary for another day of instruction.  
  
Fern and Binky encountered each other at the bottom of the stairway. After exchanging pleasantries, Binky said to Fern, "Congratulations on winning the audition. You'll make a great Mini Moo voice."  
  
"Thanks, Binky," Fern replied. "And you'll make a great Mini Moo."  
  
"Don't tell anybody," said Binky, shaking a fist menacingly, "or I'll clobber you."  
  
"You won't clobber me," said Fern fearlessly.  
  
Binky lowered his fist. "You're right, I won't," he acknowledged glumly. "But Rattles and Molly will clobber me if they find out."  
  
"I won't tell them," Fern reassured him. "If I reveal your secret, I'll have to reveal mine."  
  
Arthur hurried past them up the stairway as they conversed. He glanced from side to side nervously, as if trying to avoid someone.  
  
Once he had passed through the entrance doors, he was approached by the very person he had been trying to avoid--Francine Frensky.  
  
"Hi, Arthur," she said in a sugary voice. "Are you feeling better?"  
  
Arthur responded to her question by grimacing, putting his hand over his mouth, and charging toward the boys' room at full speed. Francine gazed after him affectionately, muttering, "Silly boy."  
  
----  
  
After an uneventful day of lessons, all of Van's friends were anxious to watch the live telecast of Ed Crosswire handing the reward money to the Cooper family.  
  
All, that is, except for Muffy.  
  
"Don't you want to present the award with your dad?" Mrs. Crosswire asked her as she sat sulking on the couch, watching a Princess Peach rerun on the large-screen television.  
  
"No, Mom," Muffy replied emotionlessly. "I'll just watch it from here."  
  
Mr. Crosswire, who had put on his best suit for the event, shook his head. "It's not like her to pass up a chance to appear on TV," he remarked. "I'd better call the doctor once I'm done at the Coopers'."  
  
A few minutes later Muffy's father had departed, and her mother, wearing a house dress and pearl necklace, had taken a seat beside her.  
  
Muffy turned an unhappy face to her mother. "Mom, I don't think I'll ever get married," she said joylessly.  
  
"Well, why not, honey?" asked the concerned Mrs. Crosswire.  
  
"Because boys are scum," Muffy answered. "I thought Van was my friend, but he sent the police after me just so he could collect the stupid reward money."  
  
"I'm sure he had other reasons," said Mrs. Crosswire, stroking her daughter's unbraided hair. "Maybe he'll surprise you. Maybe he'll go on TV and turn down the money. Now be quiet. It's almost on."  
  
As the image on the TV screen changed into the WOOD news logo, Muffy tried to hang on to the slim hope that her mother was right, that Van might prove to be a true friend after all.  
  
The screen showed the inside of the Cooper house. A newswoman with a microphone was introducing the broadcast, with the Cooper family members lined up behind her in an orderly fashion.  
  
"We're coming to you live from the home of Mel and Valerie Cooper and their six children," the newswoman related. "As you know if you've been following our reports, nine-year-old Van Cooper was instrumental in the recovery of Muffy Crosswire, runaway heiress to the Crosswire used car empire. After some deliberation, the Cooper family has decided to accept the reward offered by the Crosswires, which adds up to a handsome $250,000. Before the check is presented by Ed Crosswire, owner and manager of Crosswire Motors, we'll hear a few words from the members of this lucky family."  
  
"Oh, puh-leeze," Muffy mumbled incredulously.  
  
As Mr. Crosswire stood to one side, holding what appeared to be a check in his hand, the newswoman approached Mr. Cooper and held the microphone up to his beak. "I'm Mel Cooper," he introduced himself. "My wife Valerie, and my children, Quinn, Logan, Odette, Van, Dallin, and the baby, Megan." Even Logan was dressed in a shirt, slacks, and a tie for the occasion. "I'm a lawyer by trade. No doubt you're aware that my past activities have brought me into conflict with Ed Crosswire, at least on a professional level. But how I feel about him as a person is another matter entirely. I won't hesitate to say that Ed Crosswire is a pillar of our community. He and his wife and daughter are always welcome in our home."  
  
Muffy's mouth fell open. How could Mr. Cooper say such things of his own free will? Had he been lobotomized?  
  
The interviewer was now holding her microphone in front of Mrs. Cooper. "We've been to Crosswire Motors on several occasions," the woman told the viewing audience. "They have very good deals on family wagons. The salespeople are friendly, and treat us with courtesy."  
  
Muffy's mouth fell open even further. She was certain that the events transpiring on the screen had to be a dream or illusion...  
  
"When I first met Muffy, I didn't like her very much," Quinn recounted. "I thought she was just a snobbish little rich girl. But I've learned since then that she's really a pleasant person, and so are her parents."  
  
"Dude, Crosswire Motors totally rocks," said Logan when the microphone was passed to him. "As soon as I'm old enough to drive, I'm gonna buy a car from them."  
  
Muffy had seen as much as she could bear of the Coopers saying good things about her family for the wrong reasons. "They've sold themselves," she muttered through clenched teeth. "All of them."  
  
"I don't like to think what might have happened to me if not for Muffy," said Odette. "I owe her my life. Thanks, Muffy. I wish you could be here." She then blew a kiss at the camera.  
  
"Oh, I'll be there, all right!" growled Muffy as she pounded her fists on her skirt. Her mother put a hand on her shoulder and pulled her closer, trying to calm the angry girl.  
  
Van's turn came next. "I'd like to thank Mr. Crosswire for the reward," he said in a slightly nervous voice. "But all I really care about is having Muffy back with us. I love you, Muffy."  
  
Muffy could endure no more. She leaped off of the couch and glared at the TV screen, panting with rage. "Hypocrites! Weasels!" she bellowed. "I'll tear you apart with my bare hands!"  
  
Before her mother could dissuade her, Muffy bolted from the living room and through the front doors of the Crosswire mansion.  
  
"I'll kill them," she muttered furiously to herself as she ran along the street toward the Cooper house. "I'll kill them all..."  
  
(To be continued...) 


	16. Win Win Win

Van ran his fingers over the slip of paper he held. On the side facing him was printed, in glossy letters, PAY TO THE ORDER OF VAN COOPER, THE SUM OF $250,000. His smile was weak compared to the radiant grins of Quinn, Logan, Odette, and Dallin, who surrounded Van's wheelchair and doted over the check as if it were a new hatchling.  
  
"Would you mind telling the viewing audience what you plan to do with all that money?" the newswoman asked before putting the microphone up to Van's beak.  
  
Van looked directly into the camera that was trained on his face. "I talked to my dad," he related, "and we decided to split it up, and invest part of it, and put the rest in the college fund. We have a lot of kids to send through college, you know."  
  
The exchange between Van and the interview was interrupted when the front door suddenly flew open with a bang. The cameraman turned and focused on the seething, outraged Muffy Crosswire as she marched into the house, stomped through the living room, walked past her surprised father, snatched the check from Van's hands, and tore it to shreds before his disbelieving eyes.  
  
"M-Muffy...? What..." Van sputtered.  
  
Still furious, Muffy drew back her hand and let it fly at Van's cheek. The other Cooper kids winced in horror when they heard the resounding slap.  
  
"Ow!" Van yelped. "What are you..."  
  
"You conniving little twerp!" Muffy roared. "You turned me in to the police for the reward money!"  
  
"Th-that's not true!" Van protested fearfully. "I turned you in because I was worried about you! I wanted you to come home!"  
  
"Liar!" shouted Muffy as the cameraman sprang to the side of the arguing duo to get a better angle. "I saw what you wrote down when you were on the phone with me." She waved her finger as if writing in the air. "Muffy. Call police. $250,000."  
  
"Huh?" Surprise registered on Van's terrified face. "B-but I didn't..."  
  
"Muffy, wait!" Quinn stepped forward and stuck a hand in front of Muffy's nose, causing her to step backwards. "I can explain. I was there when you called Van. He tried to get me to call the police while he kept you on the line, but I didn't want to get involved. So he wrote down the reward figure to give me an extra incentive."  
  
"What?" squeaked Muffy in astonishment.  
  
"It's true," said Van, rubbing his painful cheek. "I never cared about the money. I just wanted you back."  
  
As Muffy allowed Quinn's words to sink into her mind, Dallin began to idly pick up the pieces of the torn check that she had dropped on the floor.  
  
"Okay," said Muffy, glancing around at the gathered Cooper family, "but that doesn't explain why you all schmoozed me and my dad on TV. Are you all so easily bought? Don't you have any shame?"  
  
"That was part of the deal I made with your dad," Van explained.  
  
"Deal?" Muffy turned and looked at her father questioningly. "What deal?"  
  
Smiling, Mr. Crosswire approached his daughter and placed a warm hand over her head. "Muffin," he said proudly, "you no longer have to attend Uppity Downs."  
  
Muffy's heart nearly stopped. She gazed at her father in bewilderment. Was she dreaming? Had she really heard those words from his mouth?  
  
"H-Honest, Dad?" she stammered.  
  
"Cross my heart and hope to die," Mr. Crosswire replied.  
  
Muffy's heart brimmed with joy and elation. Her prayers had finally been answered...  
  
"Daddy, I love you!" The cameraman bent his knees to get a close-up as Muffy threw her arms around her father's midsection, tears of happiness streaming from her eyes.  
  
Van moved his wheelchair closer to Muffy, who was drying her cheeks on Mr. Crosswire's expensive suit jacket. "It was a win-win-win situation," he explained. "Your dad gets the best publicity of his life, we get a quarter of a million dollars, and you get to go back to Lakewood."  
  
"I'll make out a new check as soon as I get home," Mr. Crosswire offered.  
  
"Van, that's crazy," said Muffy as she pulled away from her father. "How did you get your family to go along with it?"  
  
"My dad was hard to convince," Van answered. "As for the others, they wanted the money, and I controlled the purse strings, so to speak."  
  
Muffy's face fell as she realized the hurt she had done. "I'm sorry, Van. I'm sorry for making a scene and calling you names and hitting you." She took a step closer to Van. "Can I kiss you on the cheek where I hit you?"  
  
"Sure, Muffy," Van replied. "But it doesn't mean we're going steady."  
  
The cameraman bent to one side to capture Muffy as she gave Van a tender peck on the cheek. Then the girl straightened up and smiled.  
  
"I'm going back to Lakewood," she enthused. "I can't wait to tell all my friends."  
  
"You don't have to," Van pointed out. "In case you haven't noticed, you've been on live TV from the moment you walked in."  
  
Muffy whirled. The camera was staring her straight in the face...  
  
Horror seized her as she realized what had happened. The viewing public of Elwood City had just watched her march into the Cooper house, hurl insults and accusations at her boyfriend, and slap him across the cheek. And she had done it all without fixing her hair.  
  
Muffy burst into tears and wailed in agony.  
  
----  
  
The Coopers judiciously invested the bulk of their $250,000 reward, while Van discovered that he had more friends than before, and that his old friends had warmed up to him even more. Odette received a beautiful new pair of ballet shoes, Logan obtained some more fashionable "threads", and Van wondered how he had gotten along without his new leather wheelchair armrest covers.  
  
No one heard from the Armstrongs, not even a postcard. Francine became more or less accustomed to sharing her brain with Sue Ellen, and found that her grades in geography had improved nicely. Beat did not recover the memories of the three weeks she had lost, but her marks only suffered slight damage.  
  
Fern and Binky started to perform alongside Mrs. Stiles in new episodes of New Moo Revue. Fern's friends pointed out how similar her voice was to that of the new character Mini Moo, but she denied all involvement. Binky's secret remained secure.  
  
Arthur gradually reached the point where he could look at Francine without becoming violently nauseous. They debated how to act on the knowledge that Francine was in love with Arthur, but reached no firm conclusions. No, they didn't kiss.  
  
A week passed. The kids were gathered in Mr. Wald's classroom at the beginning of the day, engaged in friendly chatter. The door to the room opened, and all were surprised to see Mavis Cutler enter. The hamster girl appeared confused and bashful, and she held a sealed envelope in her hand.  
  
Mr. Wald rose from his desk when his eyes met the girl. "Welcome, Mavis," he said in a friendly voice. Binky eagerly stood up to greet Mavis, but stopped himself when the teacher started to introduce the visitor. "Kids, this is Mavis Cutler," he announced. "Mavis is joining our class today. Some of you already know her. She's suffered some memory loss, so don't be too surprised if you have to reintroduce yourselves to her."  
  
The kids murmured among themselves. Concerned, Binky stepped closer to Mavis. "Memory loss?" he asked. "How much?"  
  
"I can't remember anything since about a year ago," Mavis replied in a voice that sounded less assured than the voice Binky was accustomed to hearing.  
  
Francine and Beat, seated in adjacent desks, looked at each other in astonishment, knowing exactly what this development implied.  
  
"Despite her memory loss," Mr. Wald informed the kids, "Mavis is still a very smart girl. She'll be a valuable addition to our class."  
  
Binky hesitantly returned to his seat, while Mavis held up the envelope that she was holding. "Uh, which one of you is Francine Frensky?" she called out.  
  
Francine raised her hand. "Over here."  
  
Mavis walked over to Francine's desk and handed the envelope to her. "I'm supposed to give this to you," she stated.  
  
Francine fumbled with the envelope. It was covered with blue speckles, and had a label on the front with her name in cursive handwriting. She looked back up at Mavis, who was gazing at her curiously. "You are really Mavis, right?" she asked suspiciously.  
  
Mavis shrugged. "Who else would I be?"  
  
As Mavis pulled off her backpack and seated herself at a nearby desk, Francine watched carefully to see if she could catch a glimpse of a strange black device in the pack. She didn't.  
  
She opened the envelope; inside was a handwritten letter, which was signed on the bottom with the names Mavis Culter and Andrew Putnam. It read:  
  
"Dear Francine. I hope this letter finds you in good health. I hope you are adjusting well to the side effects of the Opticron. Are you and Sue Ellen getting along all right? I write this as I am about to apply the Opticron to myself, and erase the knowledge and memories of Andrew Putnam from my brain forever. You may think it strange that I have decided to do this, so I will explain my reasons. As I told you before, the Opticron should have completely and permanently erased your memories of being Francine, and replaced them with Sue Ellen's memories. It failed to do so, however, and Francine's memories resurfaced in your mind. My research into this failure has led me to conclude that there are certain theoretical limitations on the extent to which the human brain can be reprogrammed. I will not try to explain these to you, as you lack the scientific background to understand them. Suffice it to say that my line of research has run into what you might call a 'dead end'. No further progress can be made as long as scientists are limited to working with human brains. The development of other types of brains is the realm of artificial intelligence, a field which I know very little about, and which is still in its primitive stages. My scientific knowledge now being for the most part useless, I am now faced with the decision of either living a full life as an unremarkable female, or undoing what I have done and allowing Mavis to follow her own course without the influence of Andrew Putnam. I have chosen the latter. I hope that the loss of one year of memories will not greatly disadvantage Mavis. If I had known then what I know now, I would not have burdened two young girls with the preservation of my own consciousness. My heart goes out to Mavis Cutler and Beat Simon. I apologize for the trouble and pain that my shortsightedness has caused them, and I wish them long and prosperous lives. Sincerely yours..."  
  
"...Francine Frensky."  
  
"Here!" Francine blurted out.  
  
Mr. Wald nodded at her. "George Nordgren."  
  
"Here," said George, raising his hand.  
  
Upon finishing the roll call, Mr. Wald gazed out over the students in his charge, which now consisted of boys Arthur, Binky, George, Van, and Adil, and girls Francine, Muffy, Fern, Beat, and Mavis.  
  
"How nice," he remarked. "It's five and five again."  
  
THE END 


End file.
